Last Mission
by Anderida
Summary: I dedicate this story to the memory of those who died and to everyone whose lives have been touched by the events of 9/11.  Bad things happen to good people. Buffy has a small favour to ask Angel and a very big favour to ask Spike. Will they help?
1. Chapter 1

Last Mission

Chapter 1

I knew this was going to be difficult but I wasn't prepared for just how difficult. I stood in the bland, over-large office that now served as Angel's inner sanctum and flipped my cell phone open and closed repeatedly as my nerves began to get the better of me.

What a wuss I've become! I've taken on Hell Gods and averted apocalypses left, right and centre. But face an old lover and one-time friend? I could hardly stand still; every fibre in my body telling me to run. But I had to do this; I couldn't avoid this meeting.

The door behind me opened and I felt Angel's presence before I heard him call my name in confusion. I hadn't seen him in over ten years, not since the army of slayers had stepped in to sort out the mess that he and his dubious association with Wolfram & Hart had created in LA. Willow and her coven had used magicks to close the rift that had allowed the demons into our dimension, while the slayers took care of those that had already come through the open portal.

After 'the LA Battle', we found the bodies of Wesley, Gunn and the she-god that had been inhabiting Fred's body, although we never established if the god had jumped into another body before the end. We found Angel under the corpse of a large dragon. Lack of breathing meant that we couldn't tell if he was alive, well, still undead, but since he hadn't dusted we assumed he was just the vampire equivalent of being unconscious. We took him back to his hotel where he revived the following day with no permanent injury other than the one to his over-developed ego.

I hadn't seen him from that day to this; hadn't wanted to. Now he stood behind me, and I wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Buffy?" he queried again.

Turning slowly I acknowledged him with a curt, "Angel".

He hadn't changed, of course. I hadn't expected him to look any different but suddenly being confronted by someone who hadn't aged in the 17 years I had known him was strangely disconcerting.

To increase my discomfort, I must have looked all of my 35 years and then some.

I was suddenly scooped up into a great bear-hug which had my 'fight or flight' response doing a complete 180. I was itching to tear myself away and beat the crap out of this presumptuous vampire. But as soon as he dropped my feet back to the ground I stepped back, swallowed hard and forced a smile as far as my lips. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed his help.

"It's good to see you Buffy," he began, "you look good. Please, take a seat."

He indicated an upholstered leather designer chair on my side of a large glossy black desk, while he walked to the other side of the desk, where I now noticed that there was a mug full to the brim with blood, and sat himself in a similar, but grander, chair facing me. His back was to the window, which was treated, of course, to allow in light but not that particular frequency of ultraviolet rays that were harmful to vampires.

I felt like I had been called in to the head teacher's office for some minor infringement of school rules. Or perhaps this was a job interview? For all he looked the same, I found it impossible to reconcile the pompous over-stuffed suit in front of me with the man I had given my virginity to, the man I had once loved.

"So, Buffy," Angel said slowly. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Could he be more formal? What happened to, 'how have you been Buffy?' or 'how are your friends; how is Dawn; Giles, the Scoobies?' No offer of a coffee even, but he was happy to have me wrinkling my nose at the smell of his own choice of beverage.

Angel had never really mastered any people skills, in spite of having more than 250 years to do so. But the lack of common courtesy suited me as I had a tight timescale, so I let it pass.

"I need your help, Angel. I know you will be reluctant to give me what I need but I have my reasons."

"O-okay, what can I help you with?"

"I need to know how to contact Spike." There! I'd said it!

His face and eyes became round with astonishment and for a moment I thought his head might burst like an over-inflated balloon. He seemed stunned and incensed all at once. There was a brief pause while he seemed to gather himself.

"But, Buffy," he enunciated slowly as if talking to a small child, "You know Spike didn't survive the LA Battle."

I smiled again, but this time it was obviously fake and I didn't bother to hide my contempt. "So you told me at the time. But we both know that you lied to me."

"Now, Buffy, why would I do that?"

So, he didn't deny it.

"Frankly Angel, I'm not interested in your reasons, just tell me how to get in touch with him."

"But Buffy, he's gone. You know that."

My initial nervousness at seeing Angel had evaporated to be replaced with a large helping of anger and a side order of contempt.

"Cut the crap, Angel! I've known for a long time that Spike survived and you whisked him away. So where is he?"

"Buffy I don't understand what you mean. Spike dusted during the Battle." He spread his large hands across the desk and looked at me with a pained expression on his face.

"I'm not a fool! Tell me how to find him. I need to see him."

"You can't be serious, Buffy. Spike's an unpredictable killer. He can't be trusted." He leant forward as if to emphasise his earnestness. It was all I could do not to slap the insincerity out of him. But as much as I was incredibly irritated by him, he had also just given me the confirmation I needed.

My heart was pounding and my mouth had gone dry.

"Okay. So we've established now that you know he's alive. So now tell me where he is."

"I didn't say that, Buffy. You're putting words in my mouth. And even if what you suggest is true, it would be remiss of me to put you in harm's way by sending you into the lair of a Master Vampire."

"Like I am now you mean?"

"That's not the same. You can trust me."

"But not with the truth it seems!"

"Look, Buffy, …"

But I had had enough. I thumped my hands down hard on his desk, making blood splash out of his mug, causing pens to jump out of their holder and leaving sweaty marks on the otherwise pristine surface. It gave me a small sense of satisfaction to mess up his desk. Childish, I know, but everything with Angel is just so perfect, like the desk, and it's all show. It cried out to be mussed up. Besides, he had always been a neat freak, easily irritated by mess. OCD much?

"No, Angel, I've had enough of this crap! Just tell me what I need to know and I'll leave you to enjoy your big shiny desk in peace."

"You haven't told me why you want to know yet." With his big, brown, doleful eyes he did a passable impersonation of a cow on its way to the abattoir.

"And just why is that relevant?" I asked, knowing I would have to tell him. I had known before I arrived in LA that I would have to give Angel the reason for my visit. I shouldn't have to. I didn't want to. But I knew I wouldn't have a choice. Angel had always been good at denying me any choice.

"Buffy you can't expect to just breeze in here after, what is it? Ten years? And then expect me to just give you whatever you demand without explaining why."

"Can I not? I didn't realise I had to clear everything I do with you first!" It was getting harder not to give my anger free-rein but I couldn't risk a pissed off Angel refusing to help me.

"That's not it, Buffy." His sad eyes stared at me with a mixture of betrayal and sorrow. How I kept my temper I do not know.

"I just need to get in touch with Spike. That's all you need to know," I tried.

"But why, Buffy? Why would you want to contact Spike of all people?"

My last pitch: "It's personal, Angel. Can't we leave it at that?"

"Personal? What personal business could you possibly have with Spike?"

"If I told _you_ then it wouldn't be personal would it?" I said a silent prayer to the Powers That Be: 'Please make him drop this.' But of course the PTB never listen to me.

"Buffy, I don't like the sound of this. What got into you?"

"Cancer!"

Oh, for a camera! Angel flinched! He actually flinched!

What?" He seemed smaller somehow.

"Cancer. I have cancer." I was used to this by now. It almost felt like I was talking about someone else. Almost.

"But, but how? You can't. I mean, how's that even possible?"

"Yeah, I know. Slayer healing? Not so much!"

"What happened?"

I really hoped he wasn't going to get mushy on me. I had had enough of that already with the Scoobies.

"What can I tell you? Lump in breast, lumpectomy, lump back, cancer spread, game over!" I smiled weakly.

"But can't they do a, what do they call it, a mastectomy?"

"Oh, silly me, I hadn't thought about that. I must tell my oncologist." My sarcasm had Angel ducking his head with something that may have been embarrassment. But if it was, he wasn't embarrassed for me; he was embarrassed for himself. As always, it was all about him.

"Buffy!" he pleaded as if he thought this was some game I was playing just to get him to play ball. I wish!

"Look Angel, I've had all the tests and stuff. But the scans confirmed that it's spread too far. I'm riddled with it, Angel. That's just the way it is. I guess I'm just past my sell-by date; longest serving slayer and all that."

"For what it's worth, Buffy, I'm sorry." For an awful moment I thought he was actually going to cry! I should have known better.

"Thanks, Angel."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Then I shook off the gloom that had descended on us.

"So, how do I contact Spike?"

"If you need to tell him about your, um, your news, well, I can do that for you. You don't need to worry yourself about him, Buffy."

I had been thinking of just what I would tell Angel about my need to see Spike since I first decided to make the trip to LA, just after the scan results came back. I had this all worked out.

"Angel, sweetie," I said, putting on a syrupy, girly voice. "I'm putting my affairs in order, taking care of outstanding issues. I have some unfinished business with Spike and I'd like to clear the air before I, um, before I go."

"I'm not sure you'll get any value from seeing Spike. Don't expect any sympathy from him. I really wouldn't bother if I were you." His 'cow eyes' were back.

"But you're not me, Angel. I appreciate you are trying to help,"_ NOT!_ "But I need to do this. Please try to understand. It's something I have to do." I struggled to keep the sickly sweet tone going.

"I don't understand, Buffy, I really don't. But I know how stubborn you can be."

Did the pot just call the kettle stubborn? I'm dying here, literally as it happens, and he's chiding me for being stubborn? No wonder I stayed away from him all these years.

"Are you going to help me, or not, Angel?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I parked my hire car close to the reception of the Forres Lodge Motel, checking that I had the right place with the details on the post-it note in Angel's calligraphy-like handwriting.

I was a good driver now and proud of it, having honed my driving skills in an ancient stick-shift Fiat on the streets of Rome; my shaky start long forgotten. It gave me a freedom I had never had when I had been reliant on lifts from my Mom, Xander, Giles and later Dawn.

It had taken me nearly a week to reach Forres, Alaska. I hadn't expected Spike to have settled so far from LA, but then having spent less than an hour in Angel's company I kinda understood why.

I booked in and was allocated Lodge # 7 at the back of the small holiday complex. I got back in my car and drove round back to park in front of my lodge. After a quick shower, in surprisingly hot water, I put on clean clothes and then threw on a large fleece over the top and trudged out into the biting Alaskan wind.

Back at the reception counter I asked the reception clerk, bearing the badge which reminded him 'My name is Aaron', if William Pratt was on duty that evening. At his raised eyebrows, I explained that a mutual friend had asked me to look him up. 'Yes' he said, William would be working tonight. I had to bite my lip to prevent the tears I felt well up inside me.

I wandered through the lodge that housed the reception to the restaurant area at the back. The waitress was a large, smiling woman called Hannah. She walked me to a table near the middle of the log-cabin style dining room, but I asked for something less exposed. I think Hannah took my wish for privacy as a sign that I was uncomfortable eating on my own so she reminded me that they provided room service if I would prefer. I thanked her and declined, without disabusing her. I picked a small table tucked inconspicuously behind a display of silk ivy woven through a plastic trellis.

I didn't really feel like eating, but then again I didn't feel much like sitting back in my room. So I ordered Devilled Asparagus to start, which turned out to be a small flan with a piquant tomato sauce, followed by a seafood risotto with a lemony tang. Both were unexpectedly tasty, and I surprised myself by finding I did have an appetite after all.

When Hannah came to clear the main course, I asked for the dessert menu, something I hadn't done in years. I chose the chocolate brulé, a chocolate mousse, topped with melted marshmallows with a crispy burnt sugar topping. It was really delicious and it reminded me of the hot chocolate drinks my mom used to make. I had to bite my lip again.

After the meal I sat nursing a weak cappuccino, watching the other diners as they finished up their meals and left, leaving large tips. I realised that the restaurant had been quite full for a mid-week evening. Either the locals appreciated the food, which had been excellent admittedly, or there wasn't anywhere else to eat in Forres. Could be a bit of both I supposed.

When it became obvious that Hannah wanted to clear away for the night, and knowing my meal would be added to the bill for my room, I dropped a twenty on the table, and called out my thanks to her.

Exiting the reception building I turned away from my lodge and headed round to the rear of the restaurant. The chill Alaskan night wrapped itself around me and through me with every breath I took. At any other time I might have found the cold night air invigorating, but I was already shivering with nerves at the prospect of the next stage of my mission.

If I thought Angel's office was intimidating then approaching the staff area of this Alaskan hotel was truely terrifying. Demons, vampires, Gods and apocalypses, no problem. But this? This was scary with a capital 'Argh', and my nerve was failing me.

Then suddenly I was standing in a service yard at the back of the motel kitchens. I had come this far but now I didn't know what to do next. I stood in the shadows of the dumpsters to one side of the door to the kitchens and tried to catch my breath and rein in my thoughts.

And then I heard. Heard him. His voice. His unmistakable accent.

"Haven't you got a home to go to, pet? Go on, I'll lock up."

I heard Hannah's voice reply, "Aw, you're a doll, William. I'll see you in the morning, 'kay?"

"Yep, I'll be here. Where else?" I heard him chuckle. My heart skipped a beat. "On yer bike then, luv."

"Bye William!"

"Bye, luv."

I watched the door of the kitchen swing open as Hannah emerged, wrapping her coat tightly around her. She walked swiftly across the service yard and then disappeared around the corner of an outbuilding. A few moments later I heard a car start up and pull away from the motel site onto the road that ran around the southern perimeter of the complex.

I took a step towards the kitchen door but I couldn't find the courage to move out of the shadows. I stood there, transfixed, now oblivious of the cold.

I couldn't say how long I stood there until the door opened again. The figure I had known so well stepped out and turned, locking the door then pocketing the keys. Then he froze, his back still towards me.

"B – Buffy?" His voice was a mere whisper.

I couldn't avoid him any longer. I took another step and I was caught in the light from the halogen lamp over the kitchen door.

He turned slowly. " 'Lo, luv."

"Hello Spike." His hair was still bleached but not as bright as I remembered and it was now cut very short and free of gel. His jeans were a stone-washed blue and I could just see the crew neck of a light grey sweatshirt. His trademark leather duster was now a khaki parka.

But in spite of the outward changes, he was still all Spike, complete with those tinglies that I had tried so hard to forget. Everything was so familiar that the ten years since I had lost him for a second time just fell away. I wanted to laugh, to cry, to whoop for joy. But I found I was numb and rooted to the spot with the unreality of seeing him again.

"What's wrong, luv?" His head tipped to one side in query.

"W-Wrong?" I stammered. Where was my courage now, when I needed it most?

"Not gonna tell me you're on holiday in this good-forsaken wilderness an' this," his hand waved between us, "is a coincidence?"

"No," I admitted.

"So, what's wrong, pet?"

"Could we, er, could we go back to my room?" I pointed back towards the main reception.

"I'm staff, luv. Not allowed in guest accommodation. Wanna come back to my place? It's off site but it's not far."

I nodded. I couldn't find my voice.

"My car's round the corner." He indicated the direction that Hannah had taken.

Like teenagers on a prom date we nervously fell into step, walking side-by-side across the yard. I had left coherent thought behind by the kitchen dumpsters and suddenly my brain caught up with where I was, who I was with and I came to a halt. Spike stopped, his head tilted and eyebrow raised in query.

"Buffy?"

I flung myself at him, clinging to his neck, pressing my head into his chest; his presence at once so familiar and so strange. I had promised myself I wouldn't do this but I guess I'm not as strong as I used to be.

His arms came round me; holding me close and then I heard myself sob. I lifted my head and saw a damp spot on his parka. I was crying in earnest now, as ten years of grief came tumbling out and I felt bereft and relieved all at once. My strength left me in an instant, my legs crumpled and I slumped to the ground almost pulling Spike with me.

I felt myself being lifted up into Spike's arms and he set off briskly carrying me to his car, all the while telling me in hushed tones that everything would be all right, that he had me now, I was safe, that he would look after me. I knew I would give him cause to regret his words.

I don't remember the journey to Spike's apartment but I know it wasn't made in Spike's old Desoto, but in a compact, older model SUV. Spike lived a stone's throw from the Lodge Motel on a small estate of single storey buildings that zigzagged around its landscaped grounds in a disconcertingly haphazard manner. Spike's home was the furthest from the entrance to the estate on the extreme end of one of the zigzags, a garage separating him from his nearest neighbour.

"Here we are, luv" he said as he switched off the engine. "Home sweet home."

In a flash he was at my side, helping me from the SUV and guiding me into his apartment. It occurred to me that if Angel had tried to help me I would have batted him away in irritation. But with Spike it was different. With him I always knew that he respected my strength and my judgement. He was there to help, but only if I wanted help. He allowed me to be me.

I still felt weak and un-slayer like but at least I had control of my body now. I stepped away from Spike's supporting arm. He accepted this instantly and let me make my own way into the lounge. The contrast between Spike and Angel had never been clearer.

Sitting on a sofa in Spike's comfy, if rather minimalist lounge, I sniffed at the contents of a glass he had just thrust into my hand.

"Brandy?"

"Yeah, luv. Surprised you can tell. Time was, Scotch, JD and dry sherry were all the same 'bleh" to you!"

We both smiled slightly at the memory of my infamous aversion to alcohol. I still wasn't much of a drinker and my 'bleh' face would still make its presence known on occasion.

"I've had time to catch up with quite a few things since, well, since I got an army of slayers to help me out." I took an appreciative sip, welcoming the warmth of the golden liquid.

"How's that been going for you? And how's the Lil' Bit? She finished her studies yet?"

Was I surprised that Spike knew Dawn was back at uni getting her doctorate? No, it figured that Spike would keep up with what was happening.

"I don't have to patrol too often now. And Dawn's got another year to get her thesis finished. I know it's something to do with how psychology affects scientific outcomes but beyond that it's all Greek to me. But, she's happy and she's doing well. Of course I don't get to see her as often as I'd like but I guess that's normal for any family."

It felt so easy to talk to Spike, to re-establish our friendship, if that's what it was, despite the intervening years.

"Yeah, heard she was doing well. You've gotta take credit for that, pet. Did a good job raising her."

"I sometimes think she raised me! She's so grown up and kinda sophisticated. Not like me at all. And who would have thought she'd be so good at research? Non-demony research I mean."

"So how is the world of demons and their slayers?" he asked, his eyes adding an emphasis not betrayed by his words. He wasn't just asking about the slayer army.

"Oh, you know, same old, same old. At first I thought the extra slayers would sort out the demon problem for good. But, of course, you can never trust the Powers That Be. The Cleveland Hellmouth opened and there was vamp trouble in Florida. Felt sorry for the alligators getting the blame for the corpses down there. Then there were those weird killings on the island of Sicily, which I still think has a mini-hellmouth despite what Giles says."

Spike was grinning. "And how is Giles? Still wipin' his glasses?"

"Yep, and he still uses fifty words when one will do. But we're not so close these days. He's kinda in charge of the new improved Watchers Council and he has meetings and conferences and more meetings." I wanted to tell Spike how I never forgave Giles for trying to kill him, or for backing the slayers against me before the Battle of Sunnydale. But I could really care less now. There were other, more pressing, problems to deal with now.

As if reading my mind, Spike asked:

"So, pet, are you up to telling me what's bought you to the frozen north?"

"Uh huh, I've come to ask you a favour." Here goes, I thought. "It's a big favour and you may not want to help and if not, that's okay. You can say 'no' and I'll respect your decision. It's okay to say 'no', honest. No recriminations or regrets. I need you to know that."

If he thought this was a strange preface to a request for the granting of a favour he didn't show it.

"Buffy, you know you just have to ask. I can't deny you anything. Never have been able to."

And suddenly something in me snapped, taking both of us by surprise.

I began shouting, ranting really. "Yet you denied me your company for the last ten years! Again! I didn't even know you were 'back' for the first couple of years. I still don't know officially, though I guess since you're standing in front of me the rumours of your death, undeath, whatever, have been greatly exaggerated. Why did you never tell me you were back? Why? What did I do so wrong that you would hide from me?"

I was shaking. I could feel all those years of heartache and confusion bubbling out of the depths of my soul. This wasn't how I had planned our reunion to go but I was powerless against the swell of hurt that was overwhelming me.

"You bastard, Spike! You knew how I felt about you. Even if you hadn't believed my words, you should have seen it in my eyes, sensed it in me. You're a vampire, for fuck's sake; you should have known!"

That wasn't fair of me but my broken heart and my impending demise had tipped me off balance.

"Why didn't you come back to me? I know I wasn't perfect, I know I didn't always treat you right. I was wrong. I know that now and I'm sorry. But after all we went through together in those final days. God, Spike, I didn't deserve this, this abandonment!"

I was on my feet now, my stamina suddenly back, stabbing the air with my finger as spittle flew from my mouth. Somehow I just didn't give a damn.

"I loved you Spike! Loved you! I thought you were different. I thought you would stay; that you wouldn't leave me like every other man in my life. Christ! Even Giles fucked off to England every time my back was turned!"

Spike stood there, on the far side of his soulless (oh, the irony) lounge, perfectly still; saying nothing and for once being as inscrutable as the first slayer he had killed.

His blank expression and impassive demeanour made me ever madder.

"Fuck you, you lying, traitorous, unfeeling piece of shit! And don't worry, I wouldn't dream of imposing on you and your petty little life in the snowmobile capital of Dullsville where the only entertainment is bar fights and incest. Even a Hellmouth would have better taste than to open a branch here!"

I spun round to leave. At some level I knew how childish and illogical I was being but the pain I felt had burnt out the saner circuits of my brain. Or maybe that was the cancer. I tried to step around the arm of the sofa to reach the front door but my anger and distress had blinded me and I missed my footing.

I slammed down hard on the edge of a lamp table, smashing the glass I had set down there and sending Brandy splashing everywhere. Like blood, it seemed to have a greater volume out of it's receptacle than in it. I tried to turn to apologise but my feet wouldn't work and my head was hurting and then a red sticky fluid was clouding my vision and ….


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"There you are, luv. How you feeling?"

It took me a moment to realise I was lying stretched out on Spike's sofa. He was perched on the coffee table looking at me with concern.

I eased myself into a sitting position, shifting my legs to place my feet on the ground. For a moment I collected my thoughts; then my hand flew to my forehead. Dried blood outlined a single straight-edged cut above a sore lump that was still swelling.

"S'ok, slayer. Just a bit of a bang; no permanent damage. Yer head's ok too."

I smiled weakly. "Sorry about the Brandy."

"I should bloody think so! 15 year old Napoleon that!" Spike's broad smile belied his words.

It occurred to me that although I felt relieved in some way by letting out some of my pain, I still did not have any answers for why Spike had never let me know that he had been resurrected. I wanted desperately to understand his reluctance to have anything to do with me, but having vented my hurt and my anger I no longer had the energy to pursue it.

As if reading my thoughts Spike smiled softly and said, "At the risk of bringing down the wrath of a slayer on my head again I did want to come to you as soon as I found myself unceremoniously dumped in the office of Captain Forehead's Evil Empire."

I inclined my head slightly to indicate he should continue and that I wouldn't interrupt. I needed to know what he had to say.

"But came back as a ghost at first," he continued looking away from me with a sigh. "Couldn't touch anything, hands went right through. Bloody scary at first. Couldn't even leave the building.

"I asked about you and Peaches said you'd moved on; got on with your life."

"And you believed him?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah. Not at first. But then I saw for myself. In Rome. With the Immortal."

He glanced up at me then looked away again. I felt as though I had been caught smoking at school. You know it's wrong on so many levels yet somehow you do it all the same.

I grimaced. "Not the best decision I've ever made." .

"That it wasn't!" Spike looked up with a weak grin. "But you see why I stayed away pet? You didn' want me bolloxing everything up for you. Always did outstay my welcome. You deserved a decent life. Couldn't deny you that."

"So you make my decisions for me then?" There was a bitterness in my voice that I didn't try to hide.

"No luv, the decision I made was for me, not you. You never wanted me around. Sure I had my uses with the fighting an' all, but I figured we needed an apocalypse to make us work. But then you had a bevy of slayers to help you out – didn't need me to help fight your battles. And the old man said you were getting on with your life; dating and stuff.

"But most of all I didn't want to set myself up to be knocked down again. Had enough of that. Reckoned we couldn't hurt each other if I wasn't around."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, not sure what I was apologising for exactly but knowing I owed it to him.

"Hey, nothing to apologise about. S'me should apologise to you. Though I stayed away for my sake, I did still think I was doing the right thing for you and you seemed to be doing ok. Should've checked with you first and not accepted what Peaches told me. Sorry!"

I smiled sadly, "I get it Spike, it's okay. We both made questionable decisions. Guess that's just us!"

"Yeah, we're not exactly gifted in that department," he smiled ruefully, "We good?"

"Yeah, we're good." I broadened my smile shyly. After everything we had been through together, everything I had been through without him, and he still made me feel bashful. Go figure!

He reached out and hesitantly pushed a strand of my hair back off my face. His demeanour was suddenly serious.

"Look, Buffy," he ran a hand through his hair, concern showing in his eyes, "that bump you just had, it mighta knocked some sense into you, or not, but otherwise you'll be fine, yeah. But you're not fine are you, pet? Something's up. Not just you turning up here outta the blue like this and tearing me a new one but, well….. I just sense something's off, you know, with your body. The tinglies I get when you're near, like when you were outside the Lodge, well they're off-key somehow? Are you ill, Buffy?"

I had never imagined that he would be able to tell. Angel hadn't.

"Yeah, I am ill Spike. It's why I came here." I felt relief at being able to just tell him at last. The tirade of earlier had left me mentally and physically exhausted and I didn't have the energy to beat about the bush.

"How bad?"

"Bad bad! I have breast cancer, Spike. It's meta-sized, er, metastasized, er, it's spread: to my spine, my liver and my brain. The doctors have exhausted all possible treatments. There's nothing more that can be done for me." I said it in such a 'matter of fact' way that I was genuinely surprised to see pain flash in Spike's beautiful, 'oh so blue' eyes.

He seemed to struggle with his thoughts for a moment. Then he said softly, "I'm sorry, Buffy."

"Thanks." The situation had taken on a surreal tinge. I say I'm dying, he says he's sorry. It didn't seem enough somehow for the magnitude of my situation. But then many times since my diagnosis I had felt the need to shout from the roof tops, 'I'm dying! I saved you miserable people every night but now I need help I'm on my own and I get a death sentence. Fair much?'

It's funny really, but in all my years as the sole slayer I had faced death nightly. Every time I set out on patrol I knew there was a chance I wouldn't come back. Yet I didn't fear dying. I guess I had some control over my fate then. But now my death was inevitable and I there was nothing I could do about it. I felt cheated, toyed with by the Powers That Be yet again. Only soon they would never been able to mess with me again. But that was cold comfort.

Spike interrupted my musing. "I never expected …. Well, with your slayer healing and you hardly ever being ill in all the time I knew you, at least in a conventional way, I just assumed, … well, I assumed you were immune."

I could see confusion written across his face. I could also see the concern in his eyes so I looked away.

"Yeah, so did I. Guess I've outlived my slayer 'best-before' date! But on the plus side," I smiled ruefully, "by the time I realised there was something wrong it was too late for surgery or chemo or anything. So I got to keep my boobs and my hair. Gotta be grateful for small mercies, right?"

I tried to stop the bitterness that had crept in to my voice but hey, I wasn't super-human, just a dying slayer.

I guess, terminal illness aside, I had been fortunate in a way that my cancer had spread so rapidly that traditional treatments, hell, any treatment, would have been ineffective, so I had been spared a mastectomy. Strangely, it was keeping my hair that I had been most relieved about.

"You don't deserve this, pet, not after all you've done. 'S'not right."

It was a simple statement of fact, but it meant the world to me. I did feel hard done by and yet I didn't feel I could share that with my friends. As though it was somehow bad form to look for justice in this world, to expect some 'quid pro quo'. (You can tell I've lived in Italy!) But I couldn't help how I felt and I did feel incredibly betrayed.

"Thanks," I mumbled hoping my voice conveyed just how grateful I was for him acknowledging the injustice of my situation. I felt validated in some small way.

I heard him take in a deep breath before he asked, without obvious emotion, "So how can I help?"

I shook off my self-pity like a shaggy dog shedding muddy pond water and looked back at him, my eyes hard, my jaw fixed, showing the strength of my resolve.

"You're not gonna like this!" I warned.

"Yeah, you said that, pet. How 'bout you let me be the judge, yeah?"

Well, no time like the present. Not as if I had the luxury of time to put this off anyway. I braced myself mentally and said bluntly, "I want you to turn me."

I held his gaze now, watching his eyes grow round and glisten.

"What! I … I. What?"

"Yeah, you said that, pet!" I quipped. I knew my request would mess with his head. But I had tumours messing with _my_ head _and_ my body so I pressed on.

"It's the only way, Spike. I wouldn't ask you if there was another way. I've thought this through very carefully. Becoming a vampire will set me free from this life-sapping illness. 'Sides, I'm gonna die anyway. Would prefer that to be on my terms, in a way I choose."

Spike just stared. It didn't look like he had heard me. But I knew that he had because he had stopped breathing. For once in his unlife he was completely still. It was all kinds of unnerving.

"Spike, when they told me that this…, this thing was terminal I couldn't get my head round it at first. I mean it's not like I've got a demon virus or lost a fight with a Hell God. I never thought I could get something so, well, so ordinary.

"Then I got to thinking there might be some magicks that could help, you know, like I thought when Mom got sick. But magicks never work out for me. And I remember what Willow was told when she tried to magick Tara back to life. Hers wasn't a supernatural death so there wasn't a supernatural cure. Guess the same would apply here.

"So that really only leaves becoming a vamp. This isn't a decision I've taken lightly. I've thought about every aspect; I've thought about it until I thought my head would explode. I've weighed up all the pros and cons and this really is the best solution. The only solution. As a slayer I think I can handle this. I will handle this. I can't see any other way.

"And don't think I've forgotten Ford, my friend from LA. He was the one who tried to do a deal with you to get turned in exchange for delivering me to you. He had a brain tumour. Remember? He had all those vamp wannabes in that old bomb shelter who thought being undead was cool."

Spike's face was impassive but he gave a curt nod and mumbled, "Yeah, no door knob."

"Well, I know this makes me all kinds of hypocritical, you know; it's ok for me but not ok for him. I know it's sort of double standards. I guess I know now how Ford felt; how frightened he was. But Ford would have been an ordinary vampire, just like any other, you know, with all the blood-drinking and the killing and stuff. I'd have to have staked him. I didn't want that.

"But I'm the Slayer. I won't be a menace to society. I'll only drink bagged blood like you and Angel."

Spike scowled briefly at the mention of his grandsire's name.

"And, I'll still fight demons and things that go bump in the night." I continued, my voice taking on a pleading quality I fought hard to curb. "I just think that this is different. I know what being a vampire means. Ford didn't. He only saw some romanticky notion of what a vampire is, like some kind of sexy, hero guy like Bill Compton or Edward Cullen. But I know none of that is real. And I know I could handle being turned. I wouldn't be like an ordinary vampire. I'd stay basically me. I just know I would; Slayer instinct, if you like.

"I know this is difficult for you," I continued before I lost my courage, breaking eye contact and looking down at my shoes. "But if you don't want to sire me then would you please just drain me, you know, kill me. I can't do that hospital bed, tubes everywhere and the whole grieving friends death bed scene. We treat animals better than that."

There, I'd said what I came for. The worst was out.

Yet the silence that followed was almost as difficult; up there with the silence after hearing those words from the Consultant telling me that they had run out of options.

I wanted to fill the silence, to talk, explain, plead, anything but sit quietly staring at my feet.

But it was Spike's call now. He needed the quiet to think. He would speak when he was ready; he could never keep quiet for long.

And just when I was beginning to think I'd got it wrong and he would never utter another word, I heard him take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry that this has happened to you, Buffy, truly I am. And sadder than you will ever know. But I don't think you realise what you are asking of me."

I looked up at him and opened my mouth to protest but he held up a hand to stop me. I nodded my assent. I had had my say; this was his turn. I owed him that.

"I really want to help you, Buffy. But what you're asking, luv, it's not that simple.

"As I see it, I've got three options; option one: I turn you. I've got some experience of that one. Turned m'mum didn' I? Look how well that turned out: I had to stake her!

"Becoming a vampire isn't just about growin' a pair of fangs, a bumpy forehead – you got a head start there, luv, er, no pun intended, - and developing a fatal allergy to sunshine. It changes you. You're not the same person you were. My mum was the sweetest, kindest person you could ever wish to meet. But as a vamp she was a foul, obscene, harpy.

"So I staked her and although it was the only thing I could do it has haunted me all of my unlife. Can't do that again. You can't expect that of me.

"And option two is hardly more appealing. It would make me a murderer, plain and simple. It would be as though I was feeding again. I haven't touched human blood, luv, since Sunnydale. I don't want to start again. It's like asking a recovering alcoholic to have another drink. And you're expecting me to live with the knowledge that I was responsible for your death. Can't do it, luv. You shouldn't've asked me.

"But then there is a third option: 'none of the above'. If I say 'no' to turning or draining you I choose option three by default. You'll end up in hospital with the Scoobies standin' all long-faced at your bedside and with all the tubes in you like somethin' out of a low budget sci-fi movie. You'll be ending your life in pain an' without dignity which is just what you don' want. And that would be down to me.

"I can't walk away from this now. There is no '_pretend this didn' happen'_ option.

"Look, pet, I'm not saying I didn' want to know about your troubles. And I'm not saying I don't wanna help, 'cause, God help me Buffy, I'd do anything to help you. But this, this isn't right. You're asking me to be a party to your death, to be responsible for the manner of your death, whether I actively take part or not."

He ran a hand through his hair as his shoulders slumped forward.

"Spike?" He was right. His words slammed into me over and over. My God, what a bitch I am! I hadn't thought this bit through. I'd been adamant that he could say 'no' and I would accept his decision and walk away. That _I _could live with his decision, not whether _he_ could. I hadn't even considered how refusing my request would affect Spike. I was chastened and ashamed of my selfish thoughtless.

"So, Slayer, d'you pass this poison chalice to me 'cause Peaches woudn' play ball?" Spike's voice was harsh with a bitter edge to it.

I stared. Words of denial rushed to my defence but, like pressing too many keys on an old manual typewriter, they got tangled together and none made it through the log-jam.

He reached forward and wiped a finger across my cheek. It was only then that I realised I was crying again. I called on the First Slayer, on the spirit of all the slayers before me to give me the strength to explain and apologise to him.

Physical pain shot up my back and then round to envelope my chest, stealing my breath from me. For the most part my medication kept the pain at bay but I'd found that stress dampened its effectiveness.

"Buffy, you okay?"

This time I managed to get the words out, "No, not really. I think I need another of my painkillers."

Almost before I had a chance to register that he had gone, Spike was back with a glass of water and my purse. Taking the purse I fished out the small pill box, retrieved two capsules and downed them with a gulp of the water.

"Buffy, I'm sorry if I'm causing you gyp."

"Gyp?"

"Pain, discomfort, yeah?"

"Oh. No, you're good. Not with the pain-causing. Just does that from time to time."

I took the liberty of leaning back on the sofa. I knew I should probably go but I really didn't feel up to facing the arctic weather.

"Is there anything I can do; can get you?" Concern was etched deep into his beautiful face.

"No, sweetie, I'll be fine." The endearment wasn't meant as a sign of intimacy, but rather 'sweetie' was a term I had become accustomed to using with the gaggle of slayers (I wonder what the collective noun for slayers is; maybe a murder of slayers?) It was easier than trying to remember all their names. I'd never been good at that.

"The 'gyp', as you put it, is easing for now. I'm just a bit drained. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I feel up to moving."

"You're leaving?"

"Well, I kinda got the impression you didn't want me here. Not contacting me to tell me you were back, or at all over the last ten years, and then being all with the 'no choices' speechifying, I guess I've already outstayed my welcome." I shrugged and winced all at once.

"God, Slayer, you just don' get it, do you? You're always welcome here, always. Can't say I'm over the moon 'bout your reason for being here now. But now you're here I don' want to ever be without you. Couldn' bear it."

His head was hanging low and his voice was full of emotion. Was he saying he was gonna help me? I felt such a bitch for turning up unannounced and throwing this can of worms in his lap. Ew, that image, so not of the good!

"Look, Buffy, I want to help, but there's got to be a better way than what you're asking of me."

"Well Buster, you have a better idea you need t' spill, 'cause me and my oncologist: fresh outta solutions!"

As soon as my glib comment had passed my lips I regretted it. Doubly so, when I saw Spike's pained expression as he glanced up at me.

"Sorry, Spike," I said softly, "I didn't mean to be so flippant. Look, for what it's worth, I did see Angel, but only to get your address. And I messed up his desk before I left."

"That big black number that's so glossy that if he had a reflection he wouldn' get any work done ogling himself in the shiny surface?"

"Yep!" I grinned like a loon. God, I enjoy it so much when Spike ridicules Angel! I didn't realise how much I'd missed that.

"Right good to hear that, pet. Wish I'd been there t'see that."

"Well, wasn't a big mess but I spilt his yak blood or whatever it was, and I could tell he was itching to wipe my sweaty hand prints off and straighten out the pen holder thingy. Can vampires get OCD?"

"Yeah, but I don't think that's Peaches problem. Think he's just too far up his own arse! When I first came back, as a ghost, yeah? Well, after a bit, I found I could move things if I concentrated really hard. Got a real kick outta moving the '_Dear Boy_'s' O-neg when 'e wasn't looking! I'd hear 'im holler, "Harmony, what the hell have you done with my blood?" and piss m'self laughing. One thing you can say about Peaches; he's very easy to get a rise outta!"

I giggled and was smiling broadly now, like I hadn't done in ages, certainly not since my diagnosis. The pain had subsided to a dull ache and I was used to that now.

"S'good to hear you laugh Buffy. Guess you haven' done much o' that lately?" There he goes again; reading my mind.

"No, guess not," I said with weak smile.

"Look, luv, it's late. All of this is a bit much to take in, for both of us I reckon. So why don' we sleep on it, yeah? See how we feel in the morning?"

I nodded. I didn't have the strength to deal with this anymore. "Yep, sleep would be of the good!"

Spike drove me back to my lodge and on the way we made arrangements to meet up after he had finished the breakfast shift the next morning. It seems that his SUV was one he had 'nicked' from Angel after 'The Battle', so it had the Wolfram & Hart patented vampire-friendly glass fitted. Plus the sun wasn't as strong at this latitude so he could pretty much travel whenever he liked. I was pleased for him but part of me missed the chaos and 'old world' charm of the Desoto.

Parking up outside my lodge alongside my hired Honda, we sat quietly for a few minutes. As tired as I was, after what had seemed like a lifetime of missing him, I was reluctant to leave him again.

"So what is it you do here exactly?" I asked to break the silence. Angel hadn't been forthcoming on the subject but had said dismissively, 'he works in the kitchens' as if he was a bum dragged off the streets to help out washing dishes.

"M'head chef, luv. Do dinners six days a week and three breakfasts. Zack, my sous-chef does the rest."

"You cook? Well, I know you cook, 'cause you've cooked, but you _cook_ cook?"

"If you mean do I cook, slayer, why not come right out an' ask me?" He sniggered.

"Alright Bleached Wonder, you know what I mean!" I was pretty sure I was smirking! God, I'd missed this!

"Yeah, pet. Thought it was about time that I made it official like, so I got me a Cordon Bleu Certificate and never looked back. Not as financially rewarding as kitten poker but it's more reliable!"

"Just seems strange you holding down a job."

He simply shrugged.

"Do you like it here?" I asked.

"Yeah, its okay. People are decent, I get to let lose with my culinary creativity and the long dark winters make it ideal vamp weather, assumin' you don't need to bite anyone."

I raised my eyebrows questioningly.

"Can't feed up here slayer. If you bite anyone you get a mouthful of duck down and the fleece lining soaks up the blood!"

"And a big fat 'ew' to that! TMI!"

"Well, on that pleasant note I'll take my leave of you, Slayer. Sleep well an' if the bed bugs bite, bite the buggers back!"

"And 'ew' to that too!"

"Don't rate anything they did after Red Rock!"

"Eh?"

"U2, luv. Great band when they started out. Came through on the coat-tails of punk. Couple a good hits in the 80's but lost their way musically. Bono's too much like Peaches, all noble and world-savin'. Pompous twats the pair of 'em!"

"Er, could we have this little musical history lesson another time? Like when I give a damn?" I was grinning from ear to ear.

I actually found Spike's verbal meandering entertaining, even if I didn't always follow him round every bend. And I found it comforting, like hearing a familiar song when you're far from home.

"Pffff, no sense of culture these colonials! Right you are, slayer. Off you toddle, pet. I'm off!"

I leant across and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek before stepping out into the chill air.

"Goodnight, Spike. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, 'night, Buffy, luv. Sleep well."

As I jabbed the plastic key card into the shiny gold lock on my lodge door, I found myself both elated and terrified at the prospect of what tomorrow might bring.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Morning found me stressed and jittery with an almost paralysing mix of hope and fear. I'd been less worried facing potentially world-ending apocalypses. I could imagine that I was 14 again, before I ever heard the word 'slayer', getting ready for my very first date; sure that I would make a complete fool of myself and my date would end up hating me. But there is still that blind optimism that all will be well that motivates you to continue.

I hadn't managed to eat breakfast, as I was quite sure I would throw it up again. I just hoped the adrenalin and caffeine would see me through the morning before low blood sugar got the better of me.

On the plus side, the bump on my head had disappeared and the now tiny scratch there would soon be gone too. Slayer healing could still fix a blow to my head but cancer had it beat. I still didn't understand why and I still thought it unfair but I'd already done more than enough wallowing so I shook those thoughts away and set off to meet my future.

Spike was already waiting for me, leaning against his car under the delivery carport behind the restaurant block when I got there five minutes before our agreed time.

"'Lo, luv."

"Hey," I murmured.

"Sleep well?" He moved off of his car to stand in front of me.

"Uh-huh!" I lied. He was so close to me. I wanted to touch him; kiss him; slap his face. But our history was a Berlin Wall of a barrier between us.

"Moray National Park is a few miles down the road. Know a nice place there to grab a coffee. That okay with you, luv?"

I nodded my agreement. Wordlessly we climbed into his car, bumping hands like nervous teenagers as we buckled up.

Spike drove through Forres giving me my first glimpse of the little town. The main street was a jumble of brightly painted timber façades as souvenir and hiking shops vied with realty agencies for the most garish frontage. The covered wooden sidewalk in front of the stores gave the town an air of unreality, as if we had driven onto the set of 'Murder She Wrote'.

But Jessica Fletcher wouldn't have been seen dead in the small rundown strip mall that marked the end of the town as the ground-hugging buildings gave way to ground-hugging grasses and scrawny shrubs.

After a few more miles, Spike turned the SUV onto a plank road that wound through a gap in a rocky outcrop.

As the rocks opened out, the rickety wooden roadway turned to skirt the shore of a beautiful lake, with a backdrop of startling white and purple mountains. The mountains were reflected in the water, giving the whole lake a lavender hue that imbued the whole scene with an air of calm.

As Spike eased the SUV slowly round the track, a small single storey wooden building came into sight. The roadway ended in an empty parking area to the near side of the building, while on the far side was a raised viewing platform set with picnic benches overlooking the lake.

Spike parked up. "You go an' bag a seat, pet, an' I'll rustle up some coffee. Americano okay?"

"Mmm, thanks." Then I had a sudden thought, "Um, shouldn't I go get the drinks, you know, sun and vampires not so mixy?"

Spike laughed lightly, "Bless you, pet. That's why I live this near to the Arctic Circle. Sun's at too much of an angle to do me much harm. I don't take chances in the summer at midday but this time of year it's fine."

"Oh, um, okay." As if my life could get any weirder, vampires could go out in the daytime now! Well, okay, in Alaska. And then what about Greenland? Or Scandinavia? Viking vampires? Now there's a thought!

The strangeness of seeing Spike in daylight as we got out of the truck bought me back from my reverie. He looked younger somehow, boyish almost. And it occurred to me that he deserved to be in the sunshine, even if it could only be the weak sunlight of northern latitudes. Yes, I think I liked seeing him in something other than moonlight and the distorting glare of artificial lamps.

Spike turned back from the café. "Anything to eat? They do some nice pastry thingys."

I heard myself say, "Surprise me!" before I wandered up to the picnic area.

Spoilt for choice, I picked a table right at the front where the wooden decking jutted out over the lake. I sat on the bench with my back against the table so that I faced the water. There was not a sound to be heard. I had been living in Rome and London in recent years; I wasn't used to total silence and I felt like I was the only person left on earth.

Then it struck me with the force of a troll's hammer that rather than being the only one alive I was shortly to leave the earth behind; to have life ripped away from me. Again! A melancholy mood descended as I was reminded of just how much I would miss living. How I would miss beautiful scenery like the lilac lake in front of me; the majestic mountains, topped with luminescent snow; the dark angles of the bare rock faces and the ice blue of the sky framing this magnificent tableau.

I inhaled deeply and the chill air in my lungs only served to remind me that breathing was another experience I would soon be without.

I was so wrapped up in my own little pity party that I didn't hear Spike approach.

"Buffy, luv? You okay?"

Suddenly he was sitting alongside me, his hand on the table behind me as if he wanted to put his arm around my shoulders. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

In answer to his question, I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Then what's with the tears, pet?"

I instinctively put my hand to my face and was surprised to feel damp rivulets on my cheeks. When had I started to cry? Could I get any lamer?

I shook my head and stammered, "S-sorry, S-Spike. It's j-just the beauty of it here. Thank you for bringing me here."

"Hey, s'okay, luv. I wouldn't have come here if I thought it would upset you."

"No, no Spike, I'm glad we're here. It will make things easier to explain."

Spike nodded and handed me my coffee and a brown paper bag.

"I got you a cinnamon roll; hope that's okay?"

"Mmmm, cinnamon! Yummy!" I turned to look at him and smiled. He smiled back softly and my tears were forgotten again.

We sat sipping coffee (well hot chocolate in Spike's case, judging by the aroma), looking out across the water, lost in our own thoughts.

But after a while of soaking up the peaceful atmosphere, I couldn't avoid it any longer.

"Spike, I'm sorry to embroil you in my problems, I …."

"Hey, Buffy, s'okay, I'm glad you came to me. An' I'm sorry about how I reacted yesterday. It was just a shock, yeah? An' you know me, luv; speak first before I engage m'brain. Sorry, pet."

"No, Spike, it's me who needs to apologise. I should never have shouted at you or put you in this position. I just didn't think. I was so wrapped up in, well, everything really."

"Buffy, luv, be surprised if you weren't. It's okay, really."

"Thank you," I whispered. I took a deep breath, "Spike, I need you to understand why I'm here." Oh, this was gonna be difficult.

"You don't need to, pet. I get it."

"No, I need you to understand all of it. Please?"

He nodded his assent.

"See, when I was younger I kinda expected not to have a normal life. I knew that as '_The_ Slayer'" I made like rabbit-ears with my fingers to indicate the speech marks, "I was likely to die young; not have a partner or kids or the whole white pickety-fence deal. I wasn't happy with that but after a while I realised there was no point moaning; I wasn't destined to be 'normal'. It sucked but that's just the way it was. I just had to live each day the best I could and not think about the future, beyond the next apocalypse.

"Then there was all that First Evil thingy and suddenly I wasn't special anymore. I was just one of many. I slowly started living a normal life; well, as normal as you can be when you have a slaughter of slayers looking to you for guidance."

"A slaughter, luv?"

"I made it up. Kinda suits them." I flashed an apologetic smile.

Spike raised his eyebrows but nodded, a smile flickering in his eyes.

"Anyway," I continued, "over the last few years I got used to the idea that I might have a future. Ok, so maybe not a partner and kids, but I didn't see an early demise at the hands of a Master Vampire anymore."

"Oi!" Spike feigned a hurt look.

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. "I started making plans, dreaming about what might be. I kinda got used to living without an impending expiry date.

"Look at this view, Spike. I don't want to never be able to see this again." I was calm now. It was good to be able to tell someone how I felt without judgement or tears.

Spike was quiet for a while before he asked gently, "But after Willow's li'l party piece when she ripped you outta heaven, you were so distressed, so broken. Why would you not jump at the chance to return to heaven?"

"Yeah, I wondered that 'cause I'd been all with the 'this is hell' wallowing. But the thing is, then I had died as the Slayer, the One and Only. I worked everyday, slaying, or training, or studying, or looking after Dawnie. Heaven was a respite from all that. I felt at peace.

"But now I've had a chance to see a bit of the world, to have a life, not just the slaying responsibility that was dumped on me. There's actually a world outside of demons and hellmouths which I didn't know existed when I jumped from Glory's tower. I couldn't miss what I'd never had; what I hadn't known about. Even if I had known, as Slayer I wouldn't have had the luxury of becoming part of that world.

"But now I do know that there is a life beyond Sunnydale and I've been part of it these last few years. I don't want to lose that, Spike. I've got more I want to see; to do. I don't want to die yet. And I certainly don't want to die in pain, peeing in a bag and needing someone to wipe my butt for me."

I was surprisingly calm as if I was explaining why I'd chosen to use a stake instead of a crossbow for patrolling.

Another silence descended. At last Spike spoke.

"I get that, Buffy, honest I do. But becoming a vampire, luv? How does that solve anything?"

Yeah, he had a point. This was where I needed my wits about me.

"Okay, it's not the way I saw my future. But I don't have much of a choice here. Besides, being a vampire isn't so bad for you. You can even go out in the sun," I waved my hand by way of illustration, "and it's gotta be of the good that you don't feel the cold here."

Spike snorted.

"Oh yeah, being a vampire's worked out so well for me pet. I turned m'Mum an' had to stake her. I fell in love with the crazy loon of a vamp who sired me, who couldn't love anyone but her own sire, my overbearing, sadistic git of a grandsire. And he subjected me to mental and physical abuse and humiliation at every opportunity – which was, like, well, all the time I knew him.

"And my sins? Hell, I was a fan of all seven. I spent over a century terrorising Europe, bein' run out of every town from the Urals to the Pyrenees, dodgin' locals with crosses an' pickaxes brandishing fiery torches, hell-bent on reducin' me an' m'lady-love to dust. I got chipped by 'Torture Inc' an' had to swallow m'pride and rely on my natural enemy to save my unlife.

"Then I fell for said natural enemy who didn't want anythin' to do with me. So I went half way 'round the world and fought like never before in my unlife to get m'soul stuffed back inside me for her; to make me worthy of her, only to find she still didn' want anything to do with me, me bein' a vampire an' all."

I had the grace to look away in shame.

He continued without a pause, "Then I got burnt into oblivion saving the world, only to come back as a ghost in the office of an evil law firm run by that ponce of a grandsire. Went through another apocalypse for the white hats an' lost friends I never knew I really had until it was too late. 'Course grand-pappy survived, more pompous, conceited an' irritating than ever before. Yeah, being a vampire's been a real bowl of cherries!"

"Well put like that….." What could I say? Couldn't fault his logic.

"And I don' think you understand about becoming a vampire, pet. You won't be the same person as you were pre-turning."

"You are!" I interrupted.

"No luv, I'm not!" His voice was suddenly steely hard and clipped. "As a human I had been a pitiful waste-of-space. A wimp and a nerd with a desire to be a poet - Christ, a bloody poet -" he shook his head, "and no literary talent whatsoever. I was too stupid to get an apprenticeship an' too damn clever for Eton and the City. Disappointed m'Dad, an' allowed m'Mum to mollycoddle me. A fuckin' disgrace.

"To tell you the truth, luv, I was glad to see the back of the old pathetic, ineffectual me and I let my demon have full rein for the first 120 years of my existence as a vampire. Make no bones about it; I revelled in the carnage. And I was good at it too. Found my vocation, you might say.

"It was only much, much later, after I'd met you, that I dropped the bloodshed and mayhem. It was you that made me reconnect with my old Nancy-boy persona. I'm the only vamp I've ever known to be able to do that."

I had to interrupt. "But, Spike, I think I _will_ be the same person. I feel it in my guts. Maybe it's because I'm a slayer?"

"Or maybe it's because you want it to be true, luv?" he almost whispered.

"But I've told you if it doesn't turn out well you can stake me. So there'll be no harm done." I could hear desperation in my voice.

"No harm done? Seriously? You really think this is a 'no harm; no foul' situation here, Slayer?" He wielded my title as a weapon. "Let's see if I understand you. I drain your blood, feed you some of mine, you die and come back as a vampire. If you turn into a crazed, blood-sucking vampire I stake you, you disappear in a cloud of dust; no harm done. If you turn out to be an ok sort of vampire, then we're good and no need for the staking. What the hell sort of vamp doesn't deserve staking, Slayer? Tell me that?"

He practically spat those last words at me.

"Well, um, I haven't staked you, Spike," I mumbled. "And I know I wouldn't give you any cause to stake me, honestly." I rummaged around my scrambled brain to come up with some better explanation; some justification. Yes! I had it!

"I'd be a benign vampire." Yep, straight out of the 'Guide to Tumours and other Nasties' handbook.

"What? What?" Spike was looking at me like my head had fallen off, and oh, how I wish it had! "What the fuck is a 'benign' vampire? A benign vampire? Can you hear yourself? What does that even mean? A vampire who asks for donations 'stead of drinking straight from the carotid? A do-gooder vamp who runs a soup-kitchen and rescues kittens up trees then doesn' use 'em to buy into a poker game? Sound right to you?"

"Please, Spike, I know how it sounds but I think I can really be like you, a good vampire." My voice had taken on a whiny quality and I had no idea how to make it stop.

"I am _NOT_ a good vampire! There are no 'good' vampires. Remember? You being the Slayer, an' all."

I think I winced before he continued, "Vampires don't come in shades of grey. You know that, luv. Told me of'en enough. An' me? Done a lotta things in my time. Maybe I'm not yer average vamp, but I don't kid m'self that I don' deserve staking. Yeah, I manage to live slaughter-free nowadays. I don' even go out with the lads when they go huntin' caribou. Don' even go fishin'. Kinda limits recreational choices in these parts.

"An' that's another thing, Slayer," he was back to my title again, "you thought about your social life after …. well, after? No cosy chats with the Scoobies or catching up on news about the latest Big-Bad with the Slayerettes. Likely to find yourself on the wrong end of a stake there; for yer own good, of course. The gang and the tweed prig always did know what's best for you, bless their tiny minds!

"Don' get me wrong; vamps are big on socialising; you know, clans and nests and whatnot. Gregarious sorts in the main. But don' expect to be joining any vamp knittin' circles just yet, well, ever really. Ex-slayer not likely to be top of the invite list, know what I mean? _I've_ got more chance of being invited to a Garden Party at the Palace. At least the Her Majesty would have the courtesy to hold off on the staking until after the tea and scones; vamps tend to be less well-mannered.

"You might have borne the burden of being the Slayer alone but you've always had your little coterie around. As a vamp you'd be a pariah with a target on you back. 'Course, you could start yer own clan, but can't see you siring anyone, can you? An' without an entourage you'd be more isolated than a Carmelite Nun, just with better dress sense.

"As a vamp you'd have access to fewer leisure activities than a death row inmate in solitary. Malls or late night shopping might work, but buying clothes is always dodgy 'cause you won't show up in the shop mirrors. An' what do you do for readies, cash, kittens? Regular 9 to 5 is out. Pinching stuff is unlikely for you, given the fit you threw after Bit's little klepto phase.

"An' don' think you'll be able to while away eternity in some replica Bronze, if that's still your scene. What happens when you see another vamp sizin' up his next meal? Rich pickings for vamps at clubs an' the like 'cause the booze makes happy meals careless. But you try to stop them feeding and you'll find that vamps can wield stakes just as well as slayers.

Eatin' out, in restaurants that is, isn't as easy for vamps. Some places have mirrored walls or glass tables; dead giveaway, er, no pun intended. No more 'Ladies who Lunch' either. Most you'll be up for is 'Dames who Dine After Dark' an' that's assumin' you still wanna eat human food. And then who would you dine with? 'Table for one' loses its charm after a decade or so."

His hands swept over his face and his shoulders slouched.

"You're used to the sunshine, luv, more so since you haven't needed to patrol every night. You can go out wherever you want, whenever you please, anytime of day. And as popular as ghostly pale skin was in Elizabethan England, it doesn' look like it's gonna enjoy a resurgence in popularity anytime soon.

"All the time I knew you your skin was effulgent with the warm glow of your tan. But as a vamp, toasting yourself on Redondo Beach is not so much of a good idea unless Ex-Slayer Flambé is on the menu."

He sighed. "I just want you to know that being a vamp isn't all cool canine teeth and immortality. Think you may have forgotten the downsides, yeah?"

Silence fell like portcullis on an English castle under attack. But my troops were caught napping. I had to take time to marshal my thoughts and get ready to deploy my words for maximum effect.

"I haven't forgotten, Spike," I began slowly, deliberately. "Of all the people on this planet I know only too well about vampires, friend and foe, souled and un-souled, crazy-mad and madly in love. I've seen it all. I've no illusions about what I would become or the problems I would face.

"But being the Slayer taught me that I can endure anything that the Powers That Be decide to dump on me. Period! I also have faith in you, Spike. I know that if being sired gives me a bad attitude towards humans not just the pointy teeth and bumpies, I can trust you to stake me. No doubts, no delays. Just dust me."

I stared straight into those deep azure eyes, willing him to accept the truth in my words and that I was giving him permission to dust me and absolving him from any guilt for doing so. But I still knew in the parts of me not yet contaminated with cancer that he wouldn't need to stake me; that I would retain the essence of who I was. I would never have started this quest if I had felt otherwise.

We sat for several minutes, both staring ahead, watching the mountains quiver and dance in the gentle undulations of the lake. But for the tension between us, that proverbial elephant awkwardly perched on our picnic table, we could have been in paradise.

Spike could not ignore the elephant. "Do you realise what you're asking of me? Do you really? You want me to kill. To kill _you_, Buffy. I can't do it. Won't do it; would destroy me." That last sentence was almost a whisper and Spike hung his head.

After a beat he looked sideways at me and stated with conviction, "No, Buffy, I **won't **do it!"


	5. Chapter 5

Spike was looking back across the lake although I doubted he could see its beauty as his eyes seemed to be focusing on a spot beyond the mountains; somewhere that was not here.

He repeated his statement, in a flat, almost bored voice, "No, Buffy, I won't do it!"

"I don't see why not," I complained bitterly. "You'll have your third slayer scalp. Isn't that what you've always wanted?" Below the belt I know, cruel even, but I hadn't the patience, or the will, for empathy. No, I guess I was just being a bitch.

"Christ, Slayer! You know how to eviscerate a man don't yer?" Spike barked. "I love you, you stupid bint. How can I live with the knowledge that I killed the only woman I ever truly loved? That's torture, Slayer. Worse than when you were gone for 147 days, 'cause I would have been _directly_ responsible, not just losing a fight to the Doc an' you choosin' to sacrifice yourself for the world. It will be my doing. You will die at my hand, die in my arms. That's pure an' simple torture day in day out for as long as my empty existence lasts an' I don't deserve that."

"You, um, you love me? Still?" I knew the truth of his words as he said them but it was still a shock to hear them given voice. But I knew he still did. After all, isn't that why I had sought him out; because I knew his love for me would not allow him to turn my request down? When did I get so mean and manipulative? Perhaps it's a slayer thing. Perhaps it's down to the cancer. Perhaps I've always been this way.

"Never stopped loving you, pet. Not something I can turn on an' off like a tap, er, faucet to you."

"I'm sorry, Spike. I thought you'd got over me. Ten years without a word. Doesn't make a girl feel wanted." It was true he hadn't contacted me, but then neither had I made an effort to check out the rumours of his resurrection. So why was I needling him, why was I being so bitchy to the only man, scratch that: vampire, who had ever truly loved me.

He sighed again. When he spoke he sounded tired, drained. "Buffy, I had my reasons. Just 'cause I couldn't move on didn' mean you shouldn' have a life, find a partner, have a family. Figured with your … er, 'slaughter' of slayers you could lead that normal life you'd always wanted. An' it sounds like you did have an easier time of it after Sunny D. You had a chance to be a regular girl, at least as far as any slayer can be. I would've been a right git to 've denied you that."

I took in a breath of frigid air and held it. My brain whirred like a fortune wheel at a fair ground: "And the lucky lady has won … a normal life!"

I wasn't blind to the parallels with Angel walking off into the sunset, all noble and superior, telling me to be 'normal'. One day I'd like a definition of 'normal', specifically as it applies to the Chosen One, because dusting vamps and killing demons is such a normal activity for a girl. Not!

When Angel left after we defeated Mayor Snake, he did so knowing that I couldn't lead a normal life then; I was the one and only, **the** Slayer. He knew what that meant even better than I did.

I believe Angel only left me so he could look all righteous and play the martyr. He thought it would help him to atone for his past; conveniently ignoring that he was forcing me to do his penance with him. He wallowed in his 'suffering' like a confused Catholic. I was _his_ salvation; not he mine.

Angel only ever did what he wanted to do, soul or no soul. If he had really cared about my well-being he would have never encouraged a friendship between us in the first place. He was the adult in the relationship; an adult with many lifetimes of experience. I was a schoolgirl for heaven's sake. What did I know about boys then? Leaving aside Angel being a vampire, even without his long life as one of the undead, he was way too old for me. Can you say 'cradle-snatcher' much?

Not that it bothered Angel. No, he was used to getting his own way and having a soul didn't change that. How could I get so hung up on the soul-having? Just have to pick up a newspaper to see the evil that souled people are capable of. Spike tried to tell me that. But Angel had already poured his poison in my ears.

Angel made out that his soul made him a good person. I think it made him scared to be a vampire but that's not the same thing. His soul was an indulgence. He used it like a hypochondriac uses an illness. He did the whole 'poor me, look at how I suffer' gig. And I fell for it.

Whatever Angel ever did he did for Angel alone. I see that now. Starting a relationship with me, fighting my battles, leaving me: it was all on his terms, for his benefit. I wonder if he ever truly thought about how his actions would affect me.

I let out the breath I was holding and felt understanding replace it. I felt contrite. I hadn't taken the opportunity Spike thought he was gifting me. It wasn't the hollow gift Angel had 'bestowed' all those years ago. As the only slayer tasked with world-saveage I couldn't make use of my 'freedom' to be one of the crowd. And Angel knew that. He knew the pain he was causing me by leaving and I'm sure his ego got a kick from that.

Spike not coming back to me was the reverse of that. It was never a question of ego with Spike and he didn't keep away to suffer for his 'sins'. His gift was given without expecting anything in return, knowing I had a real chance of a more ordinary life. I could have a slipped easily from Slayer-in-Chief to plain old Buffy A Summers if I had just stopped my self-destructive wallowing long enough to smell the coffee.

Instead I had moped, had inappropriate relationships and compared every man with Spike and found them wanting. I grieved for my lost love, and would not be consoled: I don't think I wanted to be consoled. Maybe some of Angel's self-pitying personality had rubbed off on me. I think I only knew what it was like to feel alone, to feel I had been deserted, to feel unloved, to feel sorry for myself. That had become my comfort zone. And I had felt that I was owed more by life. Hadn't I just saved the world? Again!

I've never been good at handling my feelings. I think my emotional development stopped when I was handed the Slayer baton. In all the years I was the sole slayer I never learnt how to deal with relationships. The things you learn as you are growing up just passed me by as I spent my time slaying the things that go bump in the night.

So the only way I could deal with what had happened when we defeated the First Evil was to just shut down that part of me that had once known love in an effort to numb the pain of my loss. I knew no other way to cope. It was that or leap from a building tall enough that even Slayer healing would be no match for the drop.

As I sat watching Spike lost in his thoughts, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed, I thought about how he had left me to find my own destiny. So different from Angel. Spike was never that self-centred, despite his outward bravado. I guess the vamp you become has a lot to do with the person you were in life. That's a lesson it's taken me most of my adult life to accept.

Spike straightened up turned his head towards me. Our eyes met briefly and then he turned back to the lake while I studied the design on the disposable coffee mug. I read the words, 'caution, contents may be hot', several times without registering their meaning.

Silence and Spike had always been non-mixy so I wasn't surprised when he said gently, "Just wanted to give you a chance at the ordinary life that you'd missed out on. Didn' mean I didn' love you."

"I thought you knew, I don't do 'normal'," I murmured.

"Just 'cause you didn', doesn' mean you can't. Only wanted the best for you, luv. Didn' want to cramp your style or hold you to things that might have been said in the heat of battle.

"Keepin' away from you was heart-breaking for me, luv. More than you'll ever know. But stayin' away wasn't just for you. There was a selfish reason for not telling you I was back an' for keeping under your radar. I did it as much for me as for you. I needed to get some peace, luv. Thought I was due that at least, after everything that happened.

"Didn' wanna still be your whipping boy. Done enough of that to last a lifetime or three. I couldn't be 'convenient" anymore. It was killin' me just as assuredly as one of your little wooden pointy friends.

"I couldn't keep dippin' m'toes in to test the water only to have 'em bitten off. I was runnin' out of toes, luv." He threw me an apologetic half-grin.

I suddenly felt the Alaskan cold wrap around my heart. I was barely able to mumble, "I'm sorry."

"You always ran hot and cold, pet, and I tried to keep up, honest. And I would have probably stuck with you if Sunny D hadn't swallowed me up. But it did, and when I came back things had changed. I didn't want to put my head back in that particular noose, luv.

"I had your respect for what I did in Sunny D, and maybe, for a moment, I had your love. It was better for me to leave it like that, with you having a good opinion of me. Didn' wanna take a chance of fuckin' that up. "

I felt my tears this time. I had no words that could explain, could console. Guess I've always been Bitch Buffy.

"Look, luv, I hoped never to share that with you. With everything else you'd been through you didn't need to hear that I couldn't cope with us having, well having whatever it was that we had. Call me a coward for not wanting to go through all that again; I wouldn't call you on it.

"God I've really messed things up, haven't I?" I asked my shoes.

"No, pet, you're okay." Spike said gently. "We've both made mistakes, and not communicated enough. But mainly we've been jerked about by the Powers That Fuck You Over. Just the way it is. Life's a bitch and then you die, as the saying goes. Or you don't die and just live out your unlife in misery. Guess it's all the same to the Puppet Masters."

"Can we do anything about it now?" I hoped I didn't sound too hopeful, too needy.

"Not following you, pet."

"I mean can we, you know, you and me, can we, well, can we be like we could have been if you hadn't saved the world?"

"Come again?"

"Could we be like, well, um? Oh, this is awkward." I knew what I wanted to say but not how to say it. Not for the first time on this trip I felt like a tongue-tied teenager.

"Just say what's on yer mind, pet. Never been a bleedin' mind reader."

"Well, um, you still, um, love me, right?"

"Yeah, luv, always will. Think we established that already, yeah?

"Well, you remember what I said when you were doing your Roman Candle impersonation?"

That was an image I had obsessed over for months afterwards before finding a way to lock the pain away in a little symbolic box buried deep inside of me. I steeled myself to open that box now.

"Yeah, pet, not likely to forget that, am I? So what are you getting at?"

"Well, I meant it, what I said then. And I still do. Even when I thought you were gone. Even when I thought you were back and didn't want me to know. Think I always have really. Just took me a while to accept it.

"Couldn't we just, um, put this behind us and I'll promise not to give you a hard time. Ever." It sounded implausible even to me.

"You asking me to put m'head back in that noose, luv?"

"Well, yes. But no noose, no noose," I added urgently. "I am sorry for the way I treated you back then. I was still learning about how I felt. I never meant to hurt you and I know better now. I wouldn't ask you to sacrifice any more toes! Promise!" I tried to smile but I don't think I managed it.

"Buffy, do you mean what I think you mean? 'Cause if you do, you'd better not be stringing me along here? Trying to soften me up so I can't refuse what you're asking of me?"

"No, I, um … Why would you think that?" I asked, although I knew only too well why Spike had good reason to question my motives.

"Haven't heard you say it for real yet, luv. Three li'l words. Not said out of habit or duty or because you're ill and you need something from me. Said to me, here, now, not to some ghost of the Sunnydale ruins. 'Cause up to now you've been relying on sommat you said over ten years ago when you knew there would be no consequences."

A bitter tone had crept into his voice. For the first time I think I began to really see things from Spike's perspective. Perhaps for the first time I felt ashamed for the right reasons. But I couldn't find my voice.

He bowed his head, resting his elbows on his thighs and running his fingers through his short hair.

"I waited long enough to hear you say those words then. And now you still won't say them. What's that about Buffy? Do you really mean what you're hinting at or are you just toyin' with me so I'll do your biddin'? Think I deserve some honesty here, don' you?"

The edge in his tone was cutting. I felt the pain of it like a knife to my heart. It jarred me to my senses and I found my voice.

"No, no, I …. Spike, I can't undo what has happened. I can't wave a magic wand and do some Willow-y sort of spell. And if I could, I wouldn't. I made mistakes and colour me confused about who I was and what I wanted. I kinda lurched from one baddie or apocalypse to the next and what _I_ needed had to come later. And after slaying and college and work and Dawnie and running the house and everything, I just didn't have time for me, for working out what I needed, how I felt about things.

"It took me time to find out who I really was; to know who I am. I don't think I really worked that out until after the new Watcher's Council took over the training of the new slayers. It kinda gave me time to catch my breath. I got some space to think for the first time since I became the Slayer.

"I never meant to hurt you, Spike. But I was hurting myself, and confused. I don't have as much experience in dealing with feelings as you do. Plus what experience I do have is not exactly of the warm fuzzy kind.

"Everyone I ever told that I loved has left me. Even you with your not telling me you'd come back. It's like the _Buffy Curse_: Say 'I love you' three times while looking in a mirror and your father, mentor, boyfriend, rebound guy, lover or whatever, goes 'poof'."

"Hey, no poof here!" he joked weakly, his face pulled into a sad smile. "But I get your drift. I know you had issues with loved ones running out on you. I never meant to hurt you by not letting you know about my li'l re-appearing act. But I was already out of your life when I pitched up in old Broody's office. I thought it best to leave sleeping dogs, yeah? What kind of wanker would I be to come and say 'Honey, I'm home', only to take a hike when we slipped back into our old ways? Neither of us deserved that.

"And as I said, I stayed away as much for my sake as for yours. If you don't step into the arena they can't set the lions on you. Least, that's how I figured it. Didn't lessen the pain of me knowin' you were around but that I couldn't be a part of your life. My desire to see you was almost overwhelming at times, but you needed a chance at life and I needed not to be used anymore.

"Maybe it was the wrong decision; wouldn't be the firs' time. But maybe it was the right one, yeah? Would you know how different your life could be if you hadn't had the freedom to find yourself when you no longer had the burden of being the one and only Chosen One?"

Again with the logic!

"Okay, I get that. But it was hard, Spike, really hard. I really missed you, more than I ever thought I could miss someone."

He looked up at me, his eyes wide with unspoken questions.

"Just wanted to do what was right; for both of us. An' I trusted Angel when he said you'd moved on. See, I had no experience dealing with Angel, only Angelus. Didn't know how much the two were alike until later."

He looked down again before continuing.

"I mean you trusted him; trusted him enough to love him. So I thought I should give him the benefit of the doubt. He told me you had moved on and I had no reason to doubt him since it wasn't like he wanted you for himself, what with Cordelia and then Nina.

"Yeah, Cordy. Who'd of thunk?" I reminisced. "It's okay Spike, we've both made decisions that seemed right at the time but maybe weren't so much of the good. I get that. No, I think you made the right decision, Spike. You were thinking of both of us and you were right about not stirring up feelings again if I was just going to drive you away. I didn't mean to be such a bitch. I am sorry.

"I can't change any of that now I can only try to do things differently now. I need to set things right with you. And I don't have the luxury of a long life to work this out."

Spike's face was poker straight. "Say it?" he asked hoarsely.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_**OK, I know some of you like to be warned if smut is imminent. Well, I don't call it 'smut' myself, but if you don't like the idea of two consenting adults doing the double-backed beast – skip this chapter. **_

_**A big 'Thank You' to all those following this story and a great sloppy kiss to those who've been kind enough to review it. My muse thanks you all. [Big bow]**_

"Say it?

"I love you, Spike." There! A dozen years or more too late and it wasn't so difficult to say after all.

I started babbling, like a caffeinated Willow. "I do, um, really love you. I love you with all my heart and soul, I'm sure I always have, um, maybe ever since you told me you'd kill me Saturday. Well, ok, maybe it was just, you know, like, um, lust then, but I do love you. Really, I do. I know it's been a while, um, you know, since I said it, but, um, it doesn't mean that I don't mean it, um, you know, that I do, um, love you, that is."

He was looking at me now, doubt still showing in his eyes.

Taking a breath of glacial air I struggled to continue. "Now my head agrees too. And not because I want a favour from you. But because I love you! I wouldn't say I did just to get you to, um, help me out. I'd probably say I didn't like you, 'cause, you know, not wanting to, I dunno, have you feel that you were obligated just because I said I loved you. But I do. Please believe me. I know you didn't last time, but it's true."

I felt a blush colour my cheeks. I felt like a love-struck schoolgirl. I took another breath and tried to centre myself.

"Look, Spike, I'm not good at saying how I feel and I don't know the right words like you do. All I can tell you is that part of me died with you in the pit at Sunnydale. I meant those words I said then. But I didn't know how much I meant them until I stood at the rim of the Sunnydale crater and realised you were really gone. If I hadn't had the responsibility of Dawn, I would have joined you in that pit, because my life had stopped being worth living. So, yes. No strings, no romantic vampire notions, no need for anything from you, and with no shadow of a doubt, I love you, Spike. I love you, William."

Without warning a sob burst out of me and suddenly Spike had scooted closer to wrap his arms around me. I felt the years without him melt away. I never wanted to leave his embrace.

I held on to him like my life depended on it, which perhaps, in a way, it did. I pressed my face into his chest. Although the leather duster was missing I could still smell that unique essence that was Spike. I had been frightened I wouldn't recognise it after all these years but I needn't have worried; I would have known him anywhere by just smell alone. And I know that sounds a bit ew-y but it isn't; it's comforting really, like coming home.

I wanted to cover him in kisses, beg his forgiveness, swear to never treat him badly again, but I didn't want to deal with the reality beyond his embrace.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, his chill arms warming me deep to my core in this frozen wasteland, but all too soon I had to pull away.

"So can we talk about my plan? I know now what a burden I've placed on your shoulders, Spike, and I'm really sorry. If I could take it back I would. But, you know, with the whole bell unringing, not so much with the possible.

"So will you help me? I don't want to die, Spike, I've got too used to the idea of living. And I don't want to lose you now I've found you again. I want you to sire me."

I waited for a reaction but when he didn't even break eye contact I continued, knowing I had to finish. I had been planning what to say for so long.

"I know what I'm asking and I know it could go wrong. But I really believe that I'll be fundamentally the same person after. I think all vampires are basically who they were before, just with the blood lusty thing and a liking for violence. I think turning people enhances those negative traits they had in life.

"But I'm a slayer. And I know how to control my 'demon'. I won't be some female Angelus, I just know it in my bones. I can handle it, Spike. And I want to be by your side, if you'll have me.

This time his gaze softened.

"Aw, luv, I'd like nothing more! Stuff of m'dreams! Yeah? Well, 'cept for you being a vamp an' all. Always thought you belonged in the sunshine, luv. See I don't share your rosy view of bein' sired an' I've been around a sight longer than you, pet."

"I know, Spike, really I do, but this is like Slayer's intuition. Like when we went up against the First Evil and suddenly I knew we were gonna win. Please trust me."

"S'not you I'd be trusting, pet. Would be those wankers the Powers That Be. An' you know how that usually works out. Sorry, pet, but you gotta understand how risky this all is."

He pulled away from me and stood up, jamming his hands into the pockets of his parka. He looked out across the lake but I don't think he saw its beauty.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Buffy? There's no going back. No second chances." He seemed to be speaking to the mountains rather than me.

Addressing his profile I answered, "I don't have a first chance with this cancer, Spike. It's all bets off, game over. So, yeah, I'm sure. You taught me not to judge a vampire by his fang-having. I'll not pretend it's my life-long ambition but given the lack of options available, I don't really have a choice. I know it might not work out, and I'm okay with that since I'm not gonna be any worse off than now. Dawn is happy and can look after herself. I'm not needed in the slayer camp anymore. I'm a free agent now so I can make my own decisions. But I am _really_ sorry for not realising how this might affect you. I would have stayed away if I'd thought that through. But I guess my thinking hasn't been of the rational just lately. Sorry."

He turned at that. "Don' apologise, pet. No need. I get that your choices are limited, yeah? Can't imagine what you've been through. With everything you've had dumped on you since you got Chosen. Then they wan' t'fuck with you some more. Bastards!"

I could see anger in his eyes, and something else too. Fear. I'd never seen that in Spike before; apprehension yes, but not the naked fear that I could tell he was struggling to contain.

"It's okay, really, it is Spike. Was never in it for the retirement plan."

Suddenly I had an armful of vampire as he flew towards me and scooped me up in a fearsome embrace. He buried his head in my hair and I heard him sob.

"Please, don't," I whispered. I didn't know if I could handle his sorrow as well as my own.

He pulled back like he'd been struck by sunlight and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"What do you need, luv? You've got it, whatever."

"You – You'll sire me?" I felt hope rising in me.

"Yeah, Buffy. If that's what you wan' then I'll do it. Can't pretend I don' wish there was another way."

He had an armful of Slayer again.

"Thank you, Spike, thank you. Thank you, I know how hard this is for you. And I do really love you, honest."

He whispered 'love yous' in my ear as we held onto one another surrounded by the crisp quiet of our private world.

Later, back at Spike's apartment, we sat plotting my demise. How weird is that?

We talked as though we were planning our strategy for thwarting the next apocalypse. Except it was my personal apocalypse; one I would not survive as a human. I tried not to dwell on that.

After two coffees for me and four slugs of Jack for Spike, we had arrived at a plan of sorts.

Spike was all for delaying the inevitable for as long as possible. Me? I wanted it over and done with. I'd already thought about this over and over and any further delay would just fray my nerves even more. Plus I didn't know how long I had before the tumour in my brain started causing me to do crazy things or made me unable to function normally. My doctors had talked in terms of weeks rather than months so waiting really wasn't an option I wanted to pursue.

Spike had asked Zack to take his evening shift so I had decided that tonight was the night. Strike while the iron's hot, and all that.

I walked back to the motel to collect my possessions, such as they were. It was early afternoon by now and I relished the fresh air which was helping to disperse the headache that had been building behind my right eye.

After checking out and leaving a large tip for the maid service, I threw my overnight bag into the Honda and made my way into town. Spike had something to sort out back at the motel to prepare for Zack so he would be away for a couple of hours. That suited me, as I needed just a little time on my own to get my head round everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. I would have loved to have gone out slaying for one last time but Spike had single-handedly kept the town free of anything demony that strayed this far north.

Instead, I wandered over the wooden planks of the main town boardwalk trying to distract my thoughts with displays of tacky souvenirs, walking boots and properties for sale or rent at prices that made old Sunnydale's real estate look over-inflated. I played a game with myself, as I looked at the interior pictures of these homes displayed in so many of the windows in Main Street. I imagined who of the people I knew would live in which of the properties.

Giles, for example, would favour the historic cottage with wood fire and plush leather upholstery, although I think he would have freaked at the pony-skin rug. Ew!

A fixer-upper in the corner realty office would be perfect for Xander, all rotting timber and ancient plumbing. And at a price even he could afford. I might just tell him about this one.

I honestly never saw me being appreciative of realtors but I thanked the PTB for them this afternoon. They had allowed me to forget the enormity of what I was contemplating. Go realtors!

Then it was time. The sun had dipped below the horizon, although it still felt early to me, and the realty offices started to bring in their advertising boards and leaflet stands. Clearly there wasn't a demand for late night opening here in this arctic Disneyland.

I made my way back to Spike's with the speed of a snail and all too soon I was knocking at his apartment's door. Knocking! Bet Spike could count on one hand how many times I had knocked.

The door opened and I gasped. Spike was all in black, just as I remembered him from Sunnydale. Black jeans, black tee, and a black shirt that might have been very dark burgundy in different light. And his hair was slicked back, like those early days.

"See something you like, pet?"

I sniggered. Yep, sniggered! Don't think I'd ever done that before!

I followed him into the apartment and another gasp fell from my lips. I could smell cooking. A small table had been set up with a tablecloth, candles and a little posy of flowers ('at this latitude?'). The table was set for a meal for two, with wine glasses, and looked as though it had been kidnapped from a swanky bistro and was being held hostage in Spike's minimalist home. Add some spaghetti and a couple of cute dogs and we could have been on the set of 'The Lady and the Tramp'!

"You did this for me?" I croaked.

"S'big event, luv. Thought I ought to make it special for you."

I was touched more than I wanted to let on but as Spike wiped a solitary tear from my cheek I guess I'd let the cat out of the bag. I mumbled "Thank you" but couldn't quite look into his eyes.

"Er, something to drink, luv? I got imported Stella, or OJ if you prefer. And I was goin' to get a good Chianti but then figured, Italy: The Immortal, so I went with a Clare Valley Merlot, full-bodied but smooth. Or, or there's JD if you want?"

"Whoa! I think I got it." I let my smile show in my voice. "Merlot would be of the good about now! Oh, and by the way, no Chianti: good call!"

Spike beamed at me and busied himself with getting our drinks.

I moved round the table to perch on the arm of his cream leather sofa. It almost seemed too bright to belong to Spike but then so much about Spike didn't fit. He was nothing if not surprising; the table here being a good example.

Passing me my wine, he sat on the sofa opposite and looked at me, his head tilted to one side.

"Er, uncomfortable here!" I complained lightly at being under his scrutiny.

"Sorry, pet. You look tired, is all." He dropped his gaze.

"Yeah, well realtors' property details can do that to you."

"Ah, you've seen our fine town then?"

"Fine? Not so much. Town? Not so much either. In Europe this would be a large village."

"True, true."

A silence followed and I realized I had drunk my wine like chilled homemade lemonade on a hot Californian day.

"Spike," I began tentatively, "I need to ask you something." I waited for him to look up before continuing. "It's not that I'm not grateful for all the effort you've put in," I raised my glass and indicated towards the carefully laid table. "I'm touched, really I am. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the effort you've been to. But I'm nervous enough as it is. Could we, you know, just kinda, well, um, get down to business, so to speak?" I swallowed hard and I could feel the colour drain from my cheeks in spite of me feeling as though I wanted to blush.

"You sure it's what you want, pet? There's no going back."

I nodded. He looked like he was going to burst into tears and I tried to tell myself it was because I had blown off his supper.

He stood up, placed his wine glass on the coffee table and came over, holding out his hand to me. I set my, now empty, glass down and slipped my hand into his.

I didn't know what to expect. We had discussed the technicalities in general terms earlier but not the actual event itself. Fear was beginning to gnaw at my stomach, although that could have been in rebellion at walking away from food when in fact I was now quite hungry.

Spike led me to his bedroom. It was so obviously 'Spike', with its rich blood-red drapes and counterpane and the dark wood of the bedstead and few items of simple furniture that dotted the room. In spite of the airiness of the room, the richness of the soft furnishings and the ethnic rugs that littered the floor gave the room a cosy, familiar feel to it.

"It's just like your crypt!" I blurted out before I had engaged my brain.

"Hey, you saying my décor is dated? The impertinence!" He smiled wanly. "I just reckon if you find a style that works, don' tinker with it!"

I giggled nervously.

He turned me to face him and placed both hands on my shoulders.

"Pet, you asked me for a favour. I have agreed to help you, to give you what you want. But how I carry out your request is up to me, 'kay?"

I nodded mutely but he pressed further, "Agreed?"

"Um, yep, agreed."

"Right!" He guided me to the bed. "You need to relax now, pet."

He pushed me gently down to sit on the edge of the bed and then set about removing my sensible, yet stylish, boots and my socks. And yes, I know, socks not so 'on trend' but oh so necessary up in these northern parts.

I was in Spike's hands now, literally and figuratively.

Next, he removed my zip up fleece and started to unbutton my pastel plaid shirt. My hands instinctively flew up to either help with unbuttoning or preserve my dignity, I wasn't sure which, but he batted them away and continued with his task.

My tee followed my shirt to the nightstand to reveal a lace-edged camisole.

"Crickey, Slayer, how many layer's you wearing?"

It's cold up here!" I whined. "Just because you don't feel the cold doesn't mean I gotta dress for Californian weather."

He harrumphed!

He lifted my legs round and up onto the bed, laying me back so that my head rested on the gold and burgundy pillows.

He left the camisole while he unfastened my belt.

"Lift yer bum, luv," he commanded as he unzipped my semi-lined trousers.

I tensed.

"Hey, relax luv. Trust me, yeah?"

I nodded and tried to loosen up my muscles.

I was now in just my camisole and a rather functional pair of pink panties. I felt naked.

It had been so long since I had been this unclothed in front of any man and a good deal longer since I'd been this vulnerable in front of Spike. And to add to my discomfort, being with Spike like this is what I had spent ten years dreaming about. Most nights I climbed into bed imagining Spike's hands on me, caressing me, showing his love for me. Now my dream seemed to be becoming a reality, except I knew this was in order to bring about my death, not from any affection for me on his part, in spite of his declaration of love. This was business.

That thought grounded me and, surprisingly, I felt my body lose some of its tension.

Then to my amazement, and I have to admit, at that moment, horror, Spike shrugged out of his own shirt and pulled his tee over his head.

The sight of his beautiful, pale, smooth skin nearly took my breath away. I tried to protest, as crazy as it seems, but all I could manage as a pathetic, "Um, um"

"S'okay, pet. Just let me do this my way. If you don' wanna I'll stop but let me do this for you? It'll make your, er, transition easier."

I nodded apprehensively.

Then suddenly he had dropped his jeans to the floor and stepped out of them. And, of course, he still went commando!

So help me I wanted to stare at his crotch! Maybe the cancer was messing with my sense of propriety. I hadn't seen a naked man properly since my last time with Spike. My other, um, experiences with men since had been little more than fumbles in the dark. How sad is that?

My time with the Immortal was completely platonic; it turned out he was gay but was still firmly in the closet with the door tightly closed, locked, double-locked, bolted, dead-bolted and with several heavy objects piled in front of it. I guess tolerance of alternative sexual orientations was something an oldie like the Immortal would need a few generations to get used to. If ever.

So he surrounded himself with beautiful woman, fucking just enough of them to keep his cover.

Since I wasn't interested in him in that way; I just wanted some diversion, a distraction, it worked out well for us. I think that's why I stuck around the odious creep for so long.

Spike climbed on to the bed and slunk up in that seductive way of his until he was lying alongside me, close, but not quite touching. I felt my heart quicken its pace.

He ran a finger down my arm and I quivered in spite of myself. He leant across me and, grasping the hem of my camisole, began to remove it. I raised my arms and shoulders from the bed so he could slip it over my head.

"No bra, luv?"

"Um, gets a bit uncomfortable."

It was then that he spotted the small scar at the top of my left breast from the exploratory surgery. He lowered his head and planted a delicate kiss on the scar.

"You're still beautiful, Buffy, stunning!"

"Th-thank you."

And suddenly he had ripped my panties off.

"God, so beautiful!"

I was speechless under his admiring gaze. I felt thrilled and unworthy all at once.

"Buffy, luv. I want to make love to you. Siring can be painful unless it's part of love-making. And while I want to save you from the pain, you need to know that I'm being selfish too. I really want to be inside you, feel you cum around me."

I gulped! God help me I gulped! This was the stuff of my dreams; had been for over ten years. And my brain chose this moment to flip out on me! Go figure!

"I've wanted this for so long, Buffy. Every night since popping up in the evil law firm's bloody office I've imagined what I would do if you were here with me. What it would be like to have you in my bed. Hell, just to have you in my life.

So, I need you to understand that although this makes sense as part of you being sired," his brow furrowed, "stopping the pain an' all, it will mean the world to me. I get if you don't wanna do it this way."

I found my voice. "Um, you strip both of us naked and then you ask me if I wanna back out?"

He had the grace to look abashed.

"Yeah, sorry about that, luv. Blood's not exactly headed in the direction of my brain." He gave me an apologetic half-smile.

I raised up on my elbows and turned my head. Sure enough, he was sporting a magnificent erection.

"Yep, I can see that!" I cheeked.

And suddenly everything changed between us. He was here. With me. Wanting me. And, god help me, I wanted him with every fibre of my, soon to be undead, body.

He knew too. He reached for me as I turned into him. His kiss was everything a kiss should be. It was tender and loving. It was fierce and passionate. It was pure Spike. And, oh how I had missed this.

We kissed, caressed, stared into each other's eyes. Every concern I had ever had just melted away as we moaned endearments and got to know one another again.

Now every nerve in my body was alight with sexual excitement and with …. love. Yes, I loved him. It was really true. Not just the incredible sex, not just his unswerving devotion, not just the love I felt for him as he gave his life in that fiery hell-hole, not just the love that caused so much pain when he was gone.

I loved him beyond all that. I think at that moment I finally realised what love was. What love could be. What love would always be with Spike.

I had to tell him. Properly, the way it should have been from the first if I hadn't been so bigoted and so stubborn.

I pulled back and a saw panic in his eyes. I had put that there and I felt ashamed to my core.

"Spike? I need to tell you something," I bought my hand up to caress his face. I thought I felt him flinch. Could I feel worse for what I had done to him?

"I want this, Spike. I want to be with you for eternity, not just because I fear my cancer. I know I've said this before and you didn't believe me, but I do love you. Really, truly love you, like you are the piece of me that I have been searching for. I feel I've come home and I hope you feel the same?"

Almost before I could register the wonder in his eyes he had engulfed me tightly in his arms, whispering into my hair, "Oh God, Buffy, I love you so, so much. You don't know what you've said. It's what I wished for but never dared hope that one day you would, you would ….. Oh, my sweet, sweet Buffy."

His erection was pressing insistently into my hip. I couldn't wait anymore. I never wanted to wait again.

"Spike, come home. Come home to me. In me."

My hand moved down to give him a gentle squeeze, leaving him in no doubt what I was asking for. What I needed from him.

I pulled him towards me until he was resting on me. Our eyes met and my look told him I was okay with everything.

There was no preamble, no teasing of nipples, no finger-fucking or hand job. There didn't need to be; we had both waited long enough.

He entered me and I moaned in delight. He was home; we were home.

With no foreplay and Spike on top of me, this was as vanilla as it comes. So unlike our old romps back in the day. But this was special. This was special for us because for once in our 'relationship' we were making love not fucking. We both felt the difference.

This wasn't the wild rutting of our former selves. This was more than just indulging my need to 'feel' and his desire to be with me in any way I would allow. This reminded me of just before the final battle of Sunnydale; when my need was just to be held, to be loved. There had been no bodily intimacy then; it was an emotional intimacy that I needed and he freely gave it, in spite of everything I had put him through.

I lifted my legs to grip his torso as he pushed deeper into me, firing every nerve with hot anticipation. His thrusts became more urgent and as I raised my pelvis to meet his he rubbed my clit on every stroke, even as he struck that sweet spot inside me.

For a fleeting moment, as we wrestled together in our frenzied dance, I thought that if I had to die I wouldn't want to go any other way than here with Spike making love with me. But then my impending orgasm made all conscious thought impossible as it burned through my whole being.

I was truly alive. I would ponder the irony later.

"Cum for me love. Need you to cum for me."

His rasping whisper made me dive head first into my orgasm, with more certainty than I had done into heaven from the top of Glory's tower. On the Tower I had leapt for Dawn, for my friends, for the good of humanity. Here in Spike's bed I fell selfishly into my orgasm. And it was heady, invigorating and numbing all at the same time.

I was still in the grips of my divine 'petit mort' when I felt another wave of orgasm hit me, exponentially greater than the first and I realised Spike had shifted into his game face and had sunk his teeth into my neck. I hadn't felt any pain as he broke my skin, just the ecstasy of his bite.

I felt joy in every cell of my body as I heard him roar my name and follow me into bliss. He pulsed inside me as he pumped out his cold semen into my warm, welcoming body. His draw on my blood strengthened as another wave of delight overwhelmed me.

As the pleasure of my triple orgasm began to wane, so did I. I knew the point of no return had been passed but I didn't baulk; I wanted nothing more than the gift Spike was bestowing on me. And frankly, if I never awoke I could not bring myself to regret the manner of my passing; only my manner of living.

Just before my senses finally closed down I thought I heard Spike saying softly, "Drink, my sweet. Drink, then rest. I will be here when you wake, my love."

My tongue tasted copper as I drifted into a nothingness of great contentment. Heaven was never as blissful as this.


	7. Chapter 7

Last Mission

Chapter 7

The bed was so cosy I didn't want to get up.

For a moment I couldn't remember what day it was but then it struck me; no alarm so it must be Sunday. I must have slept in late this morning. Often on a Sunday I would to catch up on the sleep I had missed during the week. Plus this disorientation I was feeling? Typical 'morning after' for me. I must have had a 'good' time last night!

When would I get it through my thick skull that alcohol and Buffy are non-mixey?

Yet I do it all the time. Dawn comes to visit, or Xander and his wife, and then Saturday night finds me showing them the best little trattorias in Rome. Two or three decanters later and I'm the life and soul with a new-found confidence in the Italian language and a sudden familial relationship with the proprietor and every waiter in the place. It dulls the pain of being alone. And if I'm actually on my own, the pain is more, so the more I drink. It's not clever, but I don't like spending Saturday night at home by myself.

Of course, the next morning I am reminded of my alcoholic consumption by the disorientation and pounding headaches.

Thankfully, this morning seemed to be headache-free so far, which either meant I hadn't drunk that much, or I had totally over-indulged and I was still under the influence. If that was the case, my hangover would catch up with me later and was likely to be a doosey!

My stomach grumbled and I groaned inwardly. I was hungry, really hungry as it happened, and that meant I would have to leave this comfy bed to get something to eat.

It hadn't escaped my addled brain that if I was still suffering from the effects of drinking too much last night, eating anything now would be tempting fate; I had no wish to have my breakfast, brunch or whatever, make a return visit!

But if I had learnt anything in my 35 years it was that a rumbling tummy was not to be ignored. Sighing to myself softly, I threw the covers off me and forced my legs over the side of the bed.

Then there was something puzzling. I went to slip my feet into my favourite mules only to find nothing but a soft rug beneath my toes. Where were my slippers? Dawn had bought them for me last Christmas; supple leather and Italian styling. They were all I wore indoors.

I looked around in the gloom and although the room was dark I could easily see enough to know that my slippers were not anywhere on the floor in front of me. I leant forward to run my hand under the edge of the bed. Nothing. Well that was curious. The wine must have really flowed last night. And probably the beer, and maybe the Grappa too. Ooops!

I could see a halo of morning light around the drapes so I padded over to the window. Throwing the drapes back I began scanning the rest of the bedroom floor for my missing mules.

"Argh, pet! The curtains! Close the bloody curtains!"

"Eek!" I jumped at the voice, familiar though it was.

"S-Spike?" Ohmygod! Spike? I'd been out on the town with _Spike_? How did that happen? Was I _that_ drunk last night? Had I done that 'Peroni with Amaretto chaser' thing again?

"Buffy, love, step away from the windows, yeah?"

Completely dumbfounded, I instinctively moved towards the door of the room and away from the windows.

"Wha …. Um, wha …." Great! The power of speech had left along with my sobriety it seemed.

"Oh God, Buffy. How do you feel? Are you okay?"

I blinked and mustered what remained of my senses.

"Yeah, I'm, um, fine. Just waiting for my hangover to kick in. How much did I have to drink last night? Was there any Amaretto? Grappa? Tell me not both?"

"Hangover? Grappa?" He smirked at me, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Oh, that didn't bode well. Must have been a night and a half!

"Well," I confessed bravely, "I don't remember exactly how much I had to drink but judging by my inability to recall anything about last night and, um, how we, um, how we ended up here I must have really thrown caution to the wind."

I hope I didn't look as embarrassed as I felt. Even so, I could see the funny side of this. I could just imagine the headlines of tomorrow's La Stampa: 'Soused Slayer Seeks Solace with Sexy BloodSucker!' Only in Italian, of course.

"You don't remember last night? Any of it?" Spike's smirk was a full-blown smile now.

"Cat got your ears?" We both grinned at that. "Yeah, okay so I don't remember. Big deal! At least I don't have a headache and I'm not hunched over the toilet losing my pasta al pollo, like last time."

"You lost your lunch?" There was incredulity and poorly disguised glee in his voice. Damn him.

"Well, technically it was dinner, but yeah, drink doesn't like sharing so anything else kinda gets chucked up!" I grimaced. "I can't help it. I dunno but I think it must be in my genes," I protested.

"You must have been right sloshed last night, Slayer, if you can't remember what's in your jeans." Spike started chortling!

"Alright, alright. Have a laugh at my expense. Yep, Buffy can't hold her drink. Old news! The residents of Trastevere have seen it all before so I doubt last night would have been a surprise to them. In fact, I'm sure the whole of Rome knows about my little alcohol intolerance by now." I was grinning stupidly.

"Rome?"

"Um, yeah, Rome. Where did you think we were?"

"Alaska, pet."

Oh, that had me sniggering. "Alaska? And I thought _you_ could hold your drink! How many Peroni did you put away?"

"Peroni? Don't ya mean Alaskan ale?"

"Um, no. No Alaskan ale here in Rome!"

"But we're in Alaska, pet."

"Rome, Fang Face!"

"Alaska! Bloody Colonial!"

Well, that was it. Spike started chuckling and it was totally infectious. My snigger became a giggle and before long we were both laughing like a Chris Rock audience on nitrous oxide.

I moved back to the bed to avoid collapsing onto the floor, as I held my sides and tears rolled from my eyes. I don't think I had laughed so hard for years.

"Rome!" Spike murmured as he tried to catch his instinctive breath.

"Alaska!" I countered and curled up in another fit of the giggles.

Then he was tickling me and I was trying to respond in kind while squirming out of reach. His arms are longer than mine so I was losing ground but I revelled in our game.

I felt something deep inside pulling me to him; pulling me to Spike. Instead of moving away from his teasing fingers, I twisted round to draw closer to him. My mouth sought his and his hands stilled as they cradled my face.

He drew back to look at me.

"Buffy is that you? Really you?"

"Um, yep! Who else were you expecting? You never told me how much _you_ had to drink and I'm beginning to think you had more than me."

"You honestly don't remember?" We scooted up so that we were now sitting facing each other, his hands resting on my shoulders.

"Spike, what is it you want me to remember? It might just be quicker to tell me then we can get back to the smoochies."

"Right! Yeah. Tell you, yeah." He looked away at some point the far side of the room as his arms fell away from me.

My curiosity was piqued and I was beginning to get nervous. What the hell had I done yesterday?

"Spike, what is it? You're being with the cryptic and it's all shades of scary. Did I do something last night that you don't want me to remember? I didn't make out with that nice waiter, Lino, at Georgio's Trattoria, did I? I don't really like him but he flirts - well, Italian, you know - and I like to tease him. Spike, tell me. Oh no, not the karaoke again? Oh, it wasn't worse than that? Oh no, what did I do? Was it that bad?"

His eyes flew back to mine.

"No, pet, no. You didn't get drunk. But you do need to know about yesterday."

"I wasn't drunk? Okay, that's weird. 'Splainy!"

"Have you noticed anything, er, different about yourself this morning?"

My brow furrowed. "Different? Like my memory being all with the not being there?"

"Yeah, but something more than that. How do you feel?"

"I'm good. Surprisingly. Why, did I eat something dodgy? Or was there anti-freeze in the wine? There's been a lot about that in the papers here. Makes the wine sweeter if the harvest's bad."

"No, pet, nothing like that. But have you not noticed anything, er, strange about this situation?"

"Other than not finding my slippers?" I shook my head. What did he mean?

"Well, firstly, pet, you're in bed with me and you haven't rushed out with your virtue all of a flutter. Then there's the fact that we're both bollock naked and you haven't once reached for a sheet or whatnot to cover said virtue."

I considered this for a moment. He was certainly right about us being naked. But I can't say I was bothered by it. Should I be concerned that our nudity wasn't an issue for me? I didn't think so.

"O-kaaay. So I can't actually remember this happening quite like this before, but it doesn't feel wrong."

"It doesn't?"

"Nope. And your point, Mr Concerned Face?"

"Trust me?"

I nodded, wondering where this was leading to. He took my wrist gently in both hands and then without warning his grip tightened and he gave me an Indian burn.

"Ow! Wha'd'ya do that for?" I yelped in pain.

He took my hand and held it up to my face until it was touching my skin. My face felt different to my touch; my forehead was kinda bumpy and my brow was more pronounced than I remembered it being. Then he directed my hand to my mouth, pressing a finger into the corner of my lips. Wow! I had a pointy tooth. No wait: two pointy teeth!

"Wha … ?"

"Buffy, love, those are fangs. There's no other way to say this, pet: You're a vampire now."

"Cool!"

"'Scuse me?"

"You serious? I'm a real live vampire?"

"Er, real undead vampire. Yeah. Er, you okay with that?"

"You bet! Kinda sexy, don'cha think?" I flashed my fangs at him in a wide smile.

"You don't know the half of it, love." He was stroking the side of my face, looking at me with those fathomless blue eyes.

"Of course, a big 'ew' to all that killing and blood drinking and stuff but, hey, they got blood banks now, right?"

"You're not upset, or – angry?"

"Nope! Why should I be? Hey have you got any blood 'cause now I come to think of it I'm starving and I only got up to get something to eat."

"Sorry, pet, I'm forgetting my manners."

He reached over to the nightstand drawer on his side of the bed and produced a bag of O-negative. "Here y'are. I could warm it up, yeah?"

"Nuh-uh," I shook my head. I was too famished to wait.

He shifted into gameface and pierced the bag with the tip of a fang.

I took the bag from him and sucked at the nick he had made. It tasted good, as though I hadn't eaten in days and was now sitting down to Georgio's best pasta al forno with creamy mushroom and Madeira sauce. I didn't stop until I finished the bag, squeezing every last drop from it before licking my lips and running my tongue over my fangs.

"So, gonna tell me how I got to be this sexy vamp then?" I batted my eyelashes at him and giggled.

He sighed. "You'll be the death of me Slayer," he moaned.

"You're already dead, Mr The Bloody! So come on, what happened to me? Spill!"

Spike hauled us up so that we were resting more comfortably against the pillows propped up on the headboard. And he began to tell the tale of how I came to be a vampire, sitting naked in my former enemy's bed. He told me everything.

I sat quietly digesting everything I had just learned. I had begun to remember little flashes of what had happened as he had been explaining about my trip to Alaska (guess I lost that argument; we weren't in Kansas anymore). It was a lot to take in but somehow it didn't seem as wig-some as logic said it should have.

Yeah, I was a vampire, but I couldn't think that was a bad thing. Especially as the alternative was an undignified death, courtesy of that evil demon, cancer. No, I think I was pleased with the outcome. Very pleased, seeing as I had Mr Drop Undead Gorgeous sitting next to me, in bed, and without a stitch of clothing on. Yummy!

"Buffy, you're very quiet. You okay?"

There was concern and fear in Spike's voice so I turned and kissed him gently on the lips, my bumpies having slipped away while he told his tale.

"I'm fine, sweetie. More than fine. Yeah, I'm happy. "

"Happy?"

"Well, duh! Not with the dying anymore and, hey, sexy bed-mate. What's not to be happy about?"

"You think I'm sexy?"

"People who go fishing for compliments never catch anything good!"

"But you think I'm sexy, right?"

"Get over yourself, already!" Then I had a thought and reached up to feel my hair. It seemed like it was probably doing a passable impersonation of Medusa (yeah, they have Museums in Rome, you know. Culture was bound to rub off on me sooner or later). Bed-hair; so not an attractive look! I needed a comb.

I gave Spike another quick kiss then bounded out of bed.

"Back in a mo," I called cheerily over my shoulder as I padded out of the room. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders and I knew I was beaming from ear to ear.

I didn't notice at first as I entered the bathroom. But then I stopped dead in my tracks. Confusion and dread hit me and I felt suddenly giddy. I did the only thing I could: I yelled: "Spike!"

And then he was there, arms around me, his concern washing over me. "What is it? What's wrong, love?"

I couldn't speak because now I was even more wigged than ever. It was all I could do to raise my arm and point towards the mirrored cabinet over the bathroom basin, which had probably come with the apartment and was likely to be the only mirror in Spike's home.

Spike's gasp and his tightened grip told me he saw what I was seeing. I wasn't dreaming, hallucinating, or crazy.

As we stood frozen in the doorway of the small well-appointed bathroom, two pairs of eyes stared back at us: from the mirror! We were staring at a reflection of ourselves. But we were vampires. That was against every convention; every tradition; every natural lore.

My fear was easing now that Spike was holding me and I found my voice.

"Magic mirror?"

"Not likely, pet. Never seen m'self in it in all the years I've lived here." He paused a moment and I felt him take a deep breath. "First time I've seen m'self, luv, in, god, must be a century and a quarter; something like that. Do I really look like that, pet?"

I smiled at his reflection. "Do you really look that hot? Hell yeah!"

The reflection smiled back. "Thanks, pet. But as fun as this unexpected discovery is, I think we need to find out why this has happened. Is it just this mirror? If so, why didn' it show my reflection before? Or will other mirrors be like this? And if so, why? What's changed? I don't smell any magicks but what else can it be? This is bloody weird."

His reflection frowned.

"Yeah, I know, baby, it's kinda spooky. Oh, but wait! Do your bumpies!"

"Beg pardon, love?"

"Gameface! Do your gameface! You've never seen it, have you?"

The reflection raised his eyebrows then shifted into the vampire facade. His golden eyes looked back at himself in open amazement. I giggled.

"Bloody Hell!"

"Hello, handsome!"

I concentrated until I had bought my fangs and bumpies to the fore. I guessed I'd get more proficient at shifting with time. It was weird to see my face so completely changed. I remembered now that when I'd first become the Slayer I had wondered what I would look like if I ever slipped up and got turned. I thought I would look ugly as a vampire; most of the vampires I fought looked ugly to me. But there were exceptions; Angel and Spike for example. And now I was looking admiringly at my vampire image in the bathroom mirror. Mmm, not so bad.

Then I had an idea. "I need my purse. Stay here."

I was back in seconds, delving into my purse until … yeesss!

"Look, look Spike!"

I held my compact mirror up for him to see.

"Christ, Buffy, something's off here. I can see m'self in this one too."

"At least we know that's not an enchanted mirror. So it must be us."

"Yeah, but why, pet? What's happened to change a fundamental aspect of being a vampire?"

"I don't care why, Spike. I remember worrying about how I would cope with never being able to see myself in a mirror ever again. I know it was no real choice: give up the reflection or keep the cancer. But me and mirrors go back a long way! Girl's best friend. So this is kinda like a bonus for me."

"Well if that doesn't say it all about American women today! Never mind the devastating and irreversible effects of becoming a vampire, like death, being ripped from friends and family, the need to drink blood to survive, a predilection for violence, fatal aversion to sunlight, unbridled selfishness, blinding bloodlust, unrestrained hedonism, oh, and did I mention, death. But no, the girl was worried she wouldn't be able to admire herself in the mirror!"

"I didn't say I didn't think about the other things", I complained indignantly. "I just like having a reflection, that's all. There's nothing wrong with wanting to look at myself in a mirror."

"The story of Narcissus is wasted on you, isn't it, pet?"

"Daffodils? What have daffodils got to do with this?"

"Good grief, woman! Can we leave your lack of education for a moment and concentrate on what's happening here? What's changed and why?"

"And has anything else changed? Perhaps we can go out in daylight now too?" Was it too much to hope, I wondered?

"Alaska, love, remember? We can go out in the daylight here!"

"Oh yeah. But what about strong sunshine? Italian Riviera sunshine?"

"No way to test that here. No wait. There might be. The sun here doesn't burn me but this time of year direct sunshine is really uncomfortable, like insects under the skin, yeah?"

We returned to the bedroom, Spike pausing momentarily for one more glance in the mirror, as I went to fully pull back the drapes.

"Well?" I asked as the handsome vampire twirled and revelled in what passes for strong sunshine in these parts.

"Nothin'. No heebie-jeebies, no flesh-crawlin'. Nothin'!"

I stepped in front of the window. I didn't feel anything either but then I had nothing to compare with. So instead I hugged my man, um, vampire, and we embraced in the cool light. I was so pleased for him if this meant he could walk in the sun again. Real sun. Californian sun.

Oh! Suddenly I shot back pulling out of Spike's arms.

"Pet?"

"Oh God, Spike. What if I'm not a proper vampire? What if I still have the cancer? What if …. "

"Whoa! It's okay! The cancer's gone, luv."

"Gone? How …."

"I can tell, Buffy. Just like when you first turned up at The Lodge, when I knew you were ill. I knew just how ill you were before you told me, luv. I could feel how 'off' your essence was. There's no cancer left; I knew that as soon as you woke as a vamp. It's gone, Buffy."

"Really?"

"Really, love. It's all gone. You're fine. More than fine." He stepped forward and I was in his arms again, shaking off the tears that had pooled behind my eyes, as he pressed kisses to the top of my head.

I whispered into his chest, "Why do you think this mirror-y thing has happened, Spike?"

"Can't say, pet, but we really need to know. We dunno if there's a down side or if this is only temporary. Don't fancy strolling along by the seaside in the sun one afternoon and have this suddenly wear off. Don' fancy being a beach barbecue! So we need to know, pronto.

"But I think I know how to find out. Got a mate down the Moray Valley a bit. Demon. Plays a mean game of kitten poker but can't hold his drink worth a damn. Bit like you there, Lady Light-weight!" We both grinned as he continued, "He's writing a book on demon lore. He'll know or he'll know a demon who does."

"Let's go then!" I started pulling him towards the door; I couldn't wait.

"Er, pet?"

"Uh-hu?"

"Clothes? Just an idea but don' fancy my mate layin' his beady li'l eyes on your pretty package!"

"Oh! Ew! Um, you think I'm pretty?"

"People who go fishing for compliments never catch anything good!" he mimicked in a sing-song voice, which did NOT sound anything like me!

I threw a pillow at him, then began gathering my clothes from the nightstand. We had a demon to see! 

**Author's Note**: A big **THANK YOU** to everyone who has reviewed this. My muse is grateful beyond words (which it unusual for her!). Only one more chapter to go! Up soon!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Neville reminded me of Giles. He was all researchy and fond of long words. Of course, Giles didn't have small marble-like eyes that stuck out on short stalks from his scaly face. And Giles wouldn't have been seen dead in purple jogging pants and a shiny green shell jacket. But then with a long scaly tail I guess you dress for comfort.

Spike explained what had happened to us and some of the background while Neville busied himself making a pot of tea. It seems Spike had met Neville in a demon coffee shop renowned for its range of teas! Go figure!

Neville handed me a mug of sweet smelling tea.

"Touch of honey. Manuka if you can get it. Makes all the difference if you don't over do it," he informed me.

We were sitting in a room lined with bookcases and display cabinets that reminded me of the Magic Shop back in the day.

"So," Neville began, "you're the original Slayer, then? I'm honoured to have you in my home."

"Thank you. But I'm not exactly the 'original' Slayer 'cause she'd be like a bazillion years old by now. But I was the only Slayer, before all the others were called ten years ago."

"Yes, I'm sorry. How very imprecise of me. I should have said that you are the longest lived slayer in history. And did you know that you are the only slayer, in all the history of slayers, not to have carried out her duties alone? I mean before you conjured up a whole army of slayers. You had friends to support you. No slayer before you had ever done that." His eyeballs wobbled as he dipped their stalks towards me. Ew! "You are talked about in awe throughout the demon world, you know. And of course you are most beautiful, my dear, if my eyes don't deceive me, which they never do." He waggled his eyes some more.

"Really?" I grinned trying hard not to look at his bobbing eyes.

"Aw, don't tell her that Nev. Her head's big enough already!"

"Spike, you know I always give credit where it's due. And besides, this lovely lady deserves the compliment. Brains, brawn and beauty; a rare combination! Now, my dears, to business; you want to know what has happened to the both of you?"

"Yep. Please." I answered.

"Of course, my dear. When Spike telephoned to say you were coming over I took the liberty of checking my sources. Incorrect or incomplete data can cause untold difficulties, even fatalities, as demon history tells us time and again. I was certain I knew the answer but I do like to ensure total accuracy in matters of this importance."

Neville looked pointedly at the both of us to underline the gravity of what he was saying. Unfortunately one eye looked at me while the other swivelled on its stalk to fix on Spike. It was all kinds of unnerving!

"So you know what's happened to Buffy and me?"

"Well, yes. But Spike, I have to say I'm surprised that you wouldn't know about this. You are an intelligent vampire with years of experience and you are well-versed in the morphology and physiology of slayers."

"Ew!"

Neville gave me a strange look, fortunately with both eyes this time.

"Yes, a-hem, well, as I was saying," he continued. Giles much? "Perhaps, Spike, you neglected the study of the haemoneurology of slayers as it relates to demon neurophysiology?"

"Maybe I did, Nev, if I knew what you were talkin' about." Spike's leg was twitching with frustration but he managed to grace his friend with a smile.

"You ignore research at your peril, Spike, my friend. Remember when you thought Xizarb venom couldn't harm you? I had to send away to Nepal for the anti-venom. You owe your unlife to UPS, you do realise that?"

"Yeah, so you told me several dozen times. Just didn' plan on the bastard getting' close enough to bite me. But can we just cut to the chase, mate? What's this reflection malarkey?"

Neville nodded and declared, "Biohaematology!" He attempted to come across as triumphant, but with his eyes looking in two different directions at once, it was a tough look to pull off.

"Um, Neville, sweetie, I'm not up with the 'ologies' and stuff. Could you 'splainy in words a slayer could understand?" I looked suitably apologetic.

"Of course, my dear, forgive me. It is just to do with your blood. The blood of both of you."

"How so, mate?" Spike asked. "I mean, blood and vampires, kinda goes with the territory, so what gives?"

"It's quite simple. As part of the siring process you exchanged blood, yes?"

We both nodded. I wanted to say, 'well, duh!' but that seemed impolite. He was trying to help after all.

"Well, with you both having special powers, which incidentally herald from the same root source, which if you trace the Mitochondrial DNA back into Neolithic times you can see where the …"

"Nev?" Spike bought him back to the point.

"Ah yes, well, your blood, that's the blood of you both, carries the DNA for those uncommon powers. Spike, when you imbibed the Slayer's blood in it's entirety with her willing co-operation, you absorbed some of her attributes, such as her strength and her ability to see herself in mirrors, go out in the sun, and so forth."

"He can go out in proper sun, like in California?" I had to know.

"Yes, yes, of course." My heart leapt to hear that.

"Now, to continue: When this lovely young lady drank your blood, Spike, as part of her siring, she absorbed some of your attributes; vampire strength, heighten senses, fangs and so forth, as you might expect with any siring.

"Now usually a sired mortal would also acquire a fatal reaction to sunshine, a lack of reflection, and all the usual vampire encumbrances. But having such a quantity of slayer blood in your system, Spike, you acted as a filter, as it were, so that those aspects of your existence that would be negative for a slayer where not transmitted to her. In effect, the slayer blood has mixed with your blood and only the positive elements have been retained. It's quite a common process in nature; retaining good traits while losing unhelpful ones, although, of course, it usually takes generations to accomplish. You know, Darwin and so forth.

"I should stress that this cannot occur if the siring is an act of domination by the vampire. This enhanced transference of skills and attributes only happens when the exchange of preternaturally enriched blood is desired by both parties." He gave a knowing look with each eye which made me feel all kinds of queasy.

Spike ran his hands through his hair, straightening the tiny curls that had started to form. I smiled to myself; he was incredibly handsome, despite his furrowed brow. I knew his concern was for me, not for himself.

"I had no idea, Nev. This isn't what I expected. I just thought Buffy would become a bog standard vampire. Well no, she couldn't be 'bog standard' anything but I thought she would be a vampire and just still be essentially herself, her being the Slayer, an' all. Well, I hoped that would be the case. I guess I had faith in Buffy's insistence that her personality wouldn't change. I trusted her faith and my knowledge of just how stubborn she can be when she wants to be."

He shot me a grin then turned back to the shell-suited Giles.

"Nev, mate. What does this mean? For us? I've no experience of this. Hell, I had no idea this could happen."

"Well, it does lead to a very powerful Slayer / Vampire tag team, so to speak." Neville smiled, displaying teeth that really needed veneers. "This, of course, is why such couplings are so frowned upon, even in today's enlightened times. Other vampires are wary of the creation of this powerful, um, hybrid, if you will. It is rare to find references to this phenomenon even in the ancient literature. It's as if they wanted to bury the very notion. Oh, and of course, a vampire and a Slayer? Hardly firm friends in the normal scheme of things!

"You needn't worry though Spike. And you, young lady," his eyes swayed in my direction; my stomach swayed with them. "You do not need to be concerned. All is well with you both. But let me caution you: This is not something to be taken lightly. This brings responsibilities, my friends. You must wield your powers with care and discretion. But I know you will, my dears. Yes, you will, of that I am certain."

Neville folded his thin arms and his tail across his shiny green top and looked very pleased with himself, his eyes swinging backwards and forwards between Spike and me, causing me for one, to feel more than slightly bilious. I presumed Spike was used to this wobbly eyeball thing.

As Neville's words sunk in, we just stared back in, well, confusion and amazement just doesn't seem to cover it really.

Neville continued, "And should you two decide to make it official and, you know, erm, claim one another," did he really blush? Blushing scales? Is that even possible? "Well then, you two would be pretty much invincible; even greater physical strength, mental links between the two of you and a degree of ESP, emotion-reading of others as it were. Yes, formidable!"

He winked; one eye at me, one at Spike.

"Er, Nev, mate? Is this shindig a permanent thing or will we lose this over time?"

"Oh quite permanent, Spike, everything I have read is quite clear about that. Can't be reversed. You won't feel the full effects for a few days as the DNA imprints itself but there's no going back. Oh, and if you should go the whole hog with claiming each other you will, of course, become even more difficult to kill. Beheading would be the only way really, and they're doing great things with microsurgery these days so …"

To punctuate his statement, Neville spread his hands and tail, and his eyes too.

I felt a bit giddy, and not just from Neville's divergent eyeballs. This was a lot to take in and I was getting really hungry again.

"Spike, my friend," Neville began again. "Why don't you take Miss Buffy home? I daresay I have given you quite a lot of food for thought and I believe your young lady is hungry. Oooh, a pun!" He chuckled at his unintentional joke. At least his broad toothy smile afterwards suggested that the metallic grating noise he had made was his version of a laugh.

He continued, "Oh, yes, I see your childe is very hungry indeed."

At my raised eyebrows, Neville smiled and explained, "I'm part Empath Demon, my dear." Then he winked in that disconcerting way of his. 

Back at Spike's apartment we both raided his fridge for the food from yesterday's aborted dinner. I felt badly that I had been so dismissive last night of the trouble he had gone to with the meal, but I had been so nervous I doubt I could have eaten anything then. Now I couldn't understand what my problem had been.

The food was yummy, even though it was cold and I realised that the tasty food at The Lodge was Spike's doing. I savoured every mouthful and told Spike exactly how grateful I was to him for making such an effort just for me.

When we had both eaten our fill, we adjourned, me to the sofa, Spike to the easy chair, with mugs of fresh coffee.

"I'll try to keep my drink in the cup this time", I joked.

"You spill anything and it'll be you on your hands and knees cleaning up."

"Mmmm, hands and knees: sounds interesting! But, cleaning up: not so much!"

"You offering, pet, 'cause I gotta tell you, you're playing with fire, little girl."

I shot him a flirty smile and sipped my coffee with exaggerated elegance.

A contented silence stretched between us. I was sure Spike was mulling over the last 24 hours just the same as I was. Both our lives had been turned around and I hadn't expected Spike to be so drawn into my problem other than as the agent for my change.

"Spike", I began, "I'm sorry, truly sorry."

"Hey, pet, s'okay. The Napoleon cleaned up, no problem. No stain, not even a mark to show anything was spilt."

"Um, n-no, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I honestly didn't think that turning me would affect you too. Otherwise I would never have asked you. I feel so bad about this, Spike. I'm so, so sorry."

Suddenly he was beside me on the sofa. He reached out, placed my coffee mug on the floor and took my hands in his.

"Buffy, you didn't know. Neither of us did. But if you think I regret this in any way then you're crazier than Elwood P Dowd on a bender during the full moon."

"Who?"

"I can't believe you said that! How can you, an American bought up in the age of video and wall-to-wall cable, not know 'Harvey'?"

"Oh, what, um, who? The guy who cleaned up in 'Pulp Fiction'?"

"I can see I'm gonna have to educate you in your own culture, pet!" Spike smirked and I suddenly felt eager to study for the first time in my life.

Seriously though, luv," he continued, holding my gaze with those wickedly blue eyes, "neither of us expected this. Maybe I should have. Like Neville said, I thought I was an expert on all things Slayer. Looks like I didn't know shit when the chips were down. But I wouldn't change a thing, well, except for you having the big 'C', an' dying an' what have you. But this change that has happened to us, well, I can't regret that, Buffy."

I was blushing, but I was pretty sure it didn't show.

"You're not mad at me for turning your life upside down?"

I knew he wasn't, but I still had a great lump of guilt balled up inside my stomach. I had blown into Spike's life like a Kansas hurricane, bringing mayhem and turmoil in my wake. And while being able to go out in the sun of the non-Arctic variety might be a welcome side-effect, Spike never had a say in the matter; it was forced on him, like the Initiative's chip or falling out of a sparkly gem in Angel's office. I didn't want to be responsible for imposing something else on him. I knew only too well how it felt to be powerless when some big change gets thrown at you whether you want it or not. Being the Chosen One: a case in point!

Spike was staring deep into my eyes, like he was trying to see my toes from the inside. He squeezed my hands and took a deep breath. 'Note to self: need to ask Spike how to breathe.'

"Buffy, you always turned my life upside down, from the first moment I saw you in the Bronze. An' yeah, there've been things you've done that I could have wished you hadn't. 'M sure you think the same 'bout me. But this? No, I'm not mad at you. How could I be? This is a gift, luv. Not for me so much. I've lived in darkness for over a century. I'm used to it. But you? When you told me what you planned I grieved for you. You belong in the sunshine, pet, not the dark. For you to have to live an eternity in the shadows, well….. that was almost more than I could bear. So, no, luv, I'm not mad at you. Could never be."

I smiled at him. I wanted to tell him how much his words meant to me; how grateful I was to him. For everything. For helping me when no-one else could. But I couldn't find my voice.

Panic rose in me. I needed to show my gratitude yet my power of speech had fled like Cordelia at a garage sale. So I did the only thing I could: I leant across and kissed him.

Pulling my hands gently away from his, I hugged him to me, hoping to pour all my gratefulness, all my love for him, into my embrace.

"Buffy, luv? I know. I can feel your feelings, pet. Don't need thanks. Just need you."

Our lips touched again briefly before I broke contact reluctantly to satisfy my curiosity.

"You can feel my feelings?"

"Well, er, yeah, the really strong ones. You should be able to feel mine too, with practise. It's part of the siring deal. Not as strong as a claim but powerful feelings can make themselves known right enough."

"Oh! Um, okaaay! So you know I'm sorry for the way things were between us before and I'm sorry I got you involved in all this, that you had this kinda imposed, and I'm really grateful to you and … "

"It's okay, Buffy. I know." He cut me off.

But I needed to finish. "And that I'm not sorry how this has turned out. That if I had a choice of a cancer-free living kinda life, or an undead life with you, then this is where, how, I'd want to be."

"You would?" For all he said he knew my feelings, his hesitant, questioning look told me he was struggling to believe me. I couldn't blame him.

"Spike," I began softly, idly making patterns on his arm with a finger while I forced myself to hold his gaze. "I love you Spike. Never stopped loving you even when I was sure you were dust; not even when I heard you were back and wanted nothing to do with me. But I'm not the same person I was before. That girl died in Sunnydale and is buried along with the ghost of your ashes in the crater there. The woman before you loves you unconditionally. All of you. Can only exist with you. Well, kinda literally as it happens, but you get my drift. I LOVE YOU, William, Spike, The Bloody! Deal!"

For a moment he looked, well, stunned. Then a broad smile brightened his face and he chuckled.

"Buffy, luv, you do an old man's unbeatin' heart good, do'you know that?"

I beamed back at him. It was now or never.

"Um, Spike?"

He fixed me with a stare. "Y-y-yes?"

"Do me another favour?" I batted my eyelashes, in what I hoped was a seductive way but which may have come over as comic because Spike chuckled again.

"What now, Slayer?" he asked, laughter twinkling behind eyes that reminded me of the sea off Naples in the winter sun.

"Claim me?"

"Eh?"

"Claim me? I repeated, in a more serious tone.

"Wha…. Why? Why would you ask that? The laughter had vanished as if the sun had slipped behind a rain cloud.

I'd misread everything! Oh God! When I said before about preferring to be undead with him, he didn't say anything against it. I guess I suck at reading signals. Hey, I suck at relationships. I felt foolish and bereft all at once. "I, um, I thought you wouldn't mind spending the rest of your unlife with me. I'm sorry, my bad. I just assumed tha…."

His lips met mine and stopped my frantic retreat. I lost the thread of what I had been saying as my brain went into free fall to the mantra of "Lips of Spike".

Then he had stopped kissing me and was staring at me with that 'I can see your toes' look again.

"Why do you want to be claimed, luv?"

I waited for my toes to reply but when they didn't I murmured tentatively, "Because I love you? Because I don't want to ever be apart from you again?"

"You asking, or telling, luv?"

"Well, I'm telling, of course!" I heard myself snap. I reigned in my insecurity and tried again. "I do love you, but I don't want you to feel pressured or anything. And it sounded like you weren't too keen on the idea – and that's okay 'cause I mean I turn up here and throw all this at you and …."

He sighed and turned his head away from me. That was it. I'd pushed too far, too soon. God, I'd ruined it again.

"Buffy, don't do this." His voice was chillingly quiet.

"Wha…. Do what?" I was confused, hurt, oh, and did I mention, confused?

He shifted away from me to the other end of the sofa. Now his whole body was turned away. Didn't have to be a linguistics expert in body language to interpret that. This was a signal even I couldn't misread.

His voice sounded very far away. "Don' say something you don' mean, or you think I want to hear, or you think sounds a good idea in the euphoria of your reprieve from your illness."

I couldn't reply because I was still processing his words.

He continued, "Even in my wildest dreams, those dreams where I drowned in your sunshine, I never held out any hope that we would become claimed partners. It's as rare as hen's teeth and it's the ultimate declaration of a couple's love for one another. Claimed vampires are bound to one another for eternity. You, being my childe, you can still go where you like, do what you want, when you want. We'll always be connected, but as sire and childe, nothing more.

"When I daydreamed about you, about us, it was never about an eternity together. Not even for your lifetime as a regular couple. I knew that if you ever came to regard me with anything but distain you would never be able to really love me, to see beyond my being a vampire, beyond my past.

"And as much as it may seem a fun idea to you now, in the morning you will regret it and it will be too late. This is just the effect of being sired, Buffy. You'll think differently once you have had a chance to think seriously about this. "

Well, that made me find my voice. I jumped up and in one swift movement I was standing in front of him, my hand stinging from the slap I had given him across his cheek. 'Way to go, girl. Thought you promised yourself you'd never hit him again.'

"Spike, you don't get to make my decisions for me, or make assumptions about how I feel. As far as you being a vampire, well, hey, guess what? So am I now! And, no, this has nothing to do with being sired. It hasn't changed who I am; how I think. The only difference that you siring me has made is," I started counting on my fingers, "1) I don't have cancer anymore; 2) I feel a deep link to you, which, FYI, I'm kinda enjoying, 3) I feel happy like I've never been before, 4) um, well there's no 4 but…"

"You're happy? You don't mind being linked to me?" His incredulity was heartbreakingly palpable. I felt it inside me and I found myself sending out, I don't know quite how to explain but, comforting vibes, I guess.

"Don't interrupt!" I barked, more forcefully than I intended.

"And as for your past," I continued, "Yours died with you in Sunnydale. I'm still trying to atone for mine where you're concerned. And yeah, before you say it, slapping you – not so much of the good on the 'making amends' front. But in my defence I was mad that you think that you know what I think. If you see what I mean."

He was looking at me with that lop-sided look of his but I couldn't make out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"So, I'll make it as clear as I can, Spike. I love you! And the only way I won't get all claimy with you is if you don't want to. I can wait if you aren't sure and you want time to think it over. I know this is a big deal for vampires and I know you and Drusi..…, well, I know you've never claimed anyone before. I don't want to pressure you but I need you to know that I want this. It's not a spur of the moment thing. It's not because I'm confused or because I've only just become a vampire and the novelty hasn't worn off. I may not have lived as long as you but I do know my own mind. I've had 10 years to think about who I really am without having to do the slayery thing. And cancer has a way of focusing the mind perfectly, believe me. So I know what I'm asking. I know what I want."

Spike was shaking his head. "I don't doubt that you genuinely want this, Buffy. But I don't know if you fully understand what claiming actually means, how irreversible it is. If we claim each other, Buffy, we will be bound together forever. Or at least until one of us kicks the bucket, then the other will shuffle off too. There is no divorce with this, luv. It's a 'one time only' deal. No going back. You really want that?"

Now I could read his expression, and I could hear it in his voice. I could feel it somewhere in my mind, or somewhere in my gut. I wasn't sure which. I suddenly felt all insightful: It was his insecurity showing; insecurity that I had had a part in causing.

"I'm not a child, Spike. I know exactly what a claim entails. I know I've never been much of a researchy girl, but some things you just have to learn as a Slayer. You couldn't be around Giles and not be lectured on vampire law, demonology and all that stuff. It doesn't scare me. Actually the idea thrills me. These years since Sunnydale have been the worst of my life because you weren't with me. I love you. I don't want to spend another moment without you. In fact, an eternity with you doesn't sound nearly long enough.

"Now if you don't want to be tied to a flaky ex-Slayer, with poor impulse control and a shoe collection in four major world cities, then I can respect that. But don't decide on the basis of what you think is best for me. 'Cause if you do, so help me, I'll call you 'Angel'!"

His answer was to pull me down onto his lap and soundly kiss me!

"You sure?" he asked as our lips parted.

"Yes, Spike. I want to spend eternity with you, if you'll have me."

"Do you have to ask, luv? I love you so much and to be linked to you through a claim is more than I could ever have hoped for. More than I deserve."

"Okay. Mister! No more talk of deserving. I think it's time we just did what feels right to us – what's right _for_ us."

"Yeah, pet, I get that. So d'you wanna do this then?"

"You betcha!" I'm sure my face looked just as goofy as his. I was happy. For the first time in my existence I felt truly happy. Not just content but heart-burstingly happy!

Spike lifted me up in his arms as he stood and moved towards his bedroom.

"'S'now okay for you, pet?"

"Can you make it sooner?"

FIN

**Hope you enjoyed this little story. Thank you for reading and a big sloppy kiss to those who have reviewed. xxx**


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